Katherine and I spent some time out in the yard today, tidying things and spraying sand in about eight different directions. She had a blast.

Moss discerned that hoses are really related to snakes and need pouncing upon, vigourous shaking and the deft application of very sharp teeth. At least, that’s his story.

Mine varies slightly; I was dragging a hose across the grass while coiling it up for winter when a savage flying dog swooped in and attempted to abscond with my garden implement.

We’re still debating the issue.

Occasionally, I do something that is basically stupid, completely uncharacteristic (they’re not exclusive, John) and/or hideously embarassing. On a good day, I nail all three at once and save myself the work of having to endure two other incidents to fill the quota.

Today I took Moss and Wikket down to the bottom of the yard to play while Katherine improved the soil quality throughout the garden by adding sand. I threw the stick until I lost interest (the dogs are Border Collies – they never loose interest), put Moss back on his leash, picked up a stray piece of garbage that had blown by and wandered back up to get Katherine.

Then I fell into a hole two and a half feet deep.

Common wisdom dictates that in yards like ours, you watch where you’re going, but I was in a great mood, the sky was free of falling objects, Katherine was playing happily, the dogs were tired and I had finished cleaning up the yard. I was as blissed out as you can get without coffee and chocolate.

Of course, the other question is, “Why is there a honking big hole in the middle of your backyard?” Therein lies an idiosyncracy of my marriage, folks. My husband works a pretty stressful job and lives with me, which doesn’t help him any. He doesn’t drink, smoke or have any other serious vices with which to blow off steam, so he digs holes. Big ones. In the backyard.

The theory is that the holes will be filled with things; fence posts, swingsets, meteors, small vehicles….. This particular hole, however, is apparently an artistic creation in its own right and has no definitive purpose other than to lay me flat on my face in the middle of the yard.

I didn’t hurt myself (in case you were wondering. I know you were wondering. Right?) and there was actually no one watching. A shame, really, as it would have given someone a really good laugh and heaven knows, I like to feel useful.