The Boy was merciful to us — kind, even — this morning, willing to trade another hour’s or so sleep for a spot in our bed. L, too, enjoyed a pleasantly late morning, so the sun was bright by the time I was grinding coffee and K giving the Boy his breakfast.

With a start like that, what else is left to do to make the perfect morning but go for a walk. The Girl picked out a dress – always a dress — and the three of us took off, leaving K behind to have some ever-rare alone time. “She’ll probably just spend it doing chores,” I thought as we strolled down the driveway and onto our quiet street, but then I recalled how some chores give K a certain domestic peace. It must be the Polish blood.

Our route took us by the once-proud, neglected home in our neighborhood that once set itself as the envy of all. The brick work around the place alone cost a fortune, and the addition brought the square footage probably over 4k mark. Now its brick privacy walls, overgrown with everything imaginable, are crumbling and yellow “Condemned” stickers decorate the doors like sad wreaths.

I walk by this house often. It gives me a bit of comfort. Something of a nemesis, something of an inspiration, something of a warning, it teaches me to be content with what I have by reminding me that more stuff only amounts eventually to more dilapidation.

Today, however, it just reminded me of the amount of yard work that awaited me at home. As fall approaches and the sun lowers, the yard work always becomes more pleasant. There’s a different feel to the air, even if the temperature reaches the low 90s like today.

After I’d mowed, trimmed, carted, raked, and disposed, there was only one logical conclusion to the day: the pool.

With Nana and Papa looking after the Boy — just try to tell them that’s work — the three of us flopped about in the pool.

Sometimes more deeply than I would have ever expected from our once-terrified-to-get-her-face-wet daughter.