It does the soul good to have the lawn mowed. Even if the mower deck needs to be leveled, I take a certain pleasure in the tire tracks and angled cut as I circle the yard.
Then there's the designated garden area, kept short by the neighbor's llamas the last two years, except for the area where the hemlock grows. The first pass with the tiller went deep enough to get the roots and such, but not as deep as I thought it might go, two-hundred-pound animals compacting the soil as they will. Yet the soil turned well, and with one more pass after the rain today and tomorrow, I will be able to make rows for planting.
I will have to mow the hemlock. I like the smell but will not linger.