Yesterday I mowed a couple of the 16 acres that surround Willow Oak. The rest of the acreage is, except for the 2-acre pond, all, or mostly all, trees. The yard requires a lot of attention, but there is no time to succour its needs. Saturday was a gorgeous day, and springtime at Willow Oak comes alive with dogwood blooms and blackberry vines. Sycamore trees tower over the redbuds underneath, inter-laced here and there with stately cedar and black gum. Century-plus old tulip poplar hover nearby, rubbing elboes with white oak and loblolly pine.

In the early morning the dogs took their turn running around the yard, chasing and being chased; the cats lay around snoozing and being lazy. In the afternoon the dogs joined the cats, spread about on the cool green lawn underneath the massive Willow Oak trees in front of the house.

As I was riding the mower I saw a large tortoise. I nearly ran him over but manage to swerve in time to miss him. I circled around a few times, looking out for the turtle at each turn, but eventually lost contact with him. Hopefully, he found a quiet, cool place to hide out for the duration of the day.

I rode the mower, doing as I often do, allowing my thoughts to wander about, exploring the various rooms of my mind. Among those thoughts were: "If a tree falls ..."