After the parade

What a beautiful day yesterday; not too warm, pleasant breeze. The kid's dad came back with us from the parade to spend the afternoon until Hamilton's jazz gig at seven, in the gazebo on the green.

Looking around my living room at strong young men, an inspiration. We decided some time ago the fifteen year old swing set in the side yard needs to go, but no date set for demolition. I still have little girls around here who go sit in the swing seats and twirl around and exchange secrets. I thought a glider would be a fine replacement. 

Children at work. So was their dad, but I didn't snap him until later.

Farewell, old friend.

The replacement.

"Just fine," the men said. Note the birdhouse at my son-in-law's shoulder. An entire afternoon of one angry wren giving them what for as the swing set came down made no impression on the demolition gang.  There are three active bird houses in this little stand of three oaks, and the same wren seems to be the patriarch of all three. "Move it away from the stand of oaks," Grandma asked.

"OK?" from the inspector of gliders, turned to face the three bird houses and the unhappy wren.

I had to go down there.

Way up the yard, by an entirely bird house free stand of oaks and maples.

Job done just in time for supper and Music on the Green.