Looking Out My Back Door: Sorry, no story this week

My mind is a mess.

Twenty-three days ago the men began work in my backyard, front yard, patio and, yes, even inside my house. Twenty-three days of mud and crud and cement dust, of men and tools and Mexican music, of piles of sand, water barrels, ladders and stacks of brick across my lawn.

Did you know fresh cement has a distinctive smell? And handmade sun-baked brick has its own flavor?

My wall is complete, my patios are finished. I can sweep, “rearrange the furniture” and “hang pictures.” Figuratively speaking.

My head and my heart, and, yes, my hands, are in the garden.

I...