Transplanted

When Brandon and I flew to Atlanta back in May to find a house we had two days to do it. With the help of a nice CNN-appointed realtor named Lucy whose non-stop chatter in a thick Mexican accent drove us a little bonkers, we found one. Actually, we found two rentals that we liked. But on our second trip back to the one we chose, Lucy and I sat down in the back yard and she said, “Listen, Kristy.” And I said, “To what?” And she beamed back, “Exactly. Look at this place. It’s so peaceful and quiet.” So I looked around and really took in the scene of towering trees everywhere. And she was right, there wasn’t any noise getting through the dense foliage. With that, and it was Brandon’s first choice, too, we decided to take it.

And it has continued to be quiet, which is nice. But the trees have their bad points, too. For example, for the last couple of weeks, leaves have been falling and covering our yard to the tune of about a half an inch thick and today we finally raked them all up. After more than two hours of running a smooth operation we liked to call scoop and squish (one person picks up and the other person compacts), we were pretty wiped out. But at least we can see some blue sky now!

Here I am opening one of the bags the best way I knew how: