The Dead Patch
It's cold outside. I'm grilling, watching Chester stalk the coon. I notice the dead patch of grass in the still green but fading lawn. It warms me to see it.

This last summer we got a little blow up pool for the booglet. She would slide down the little elephant slide and her mother and I would sit in the cool corners, splashing and watching. Some late verdant afternoons found us all piled into it, splashing the passing dog and each other, Mommy dipping her head under the water feed from the garden hose through the hippo's mouth.

Those warm afternoons when it was still light after work, I'd come home and find them both in there, laughing. Daddy would go upstairs, take off his scratchy starched shirt, and pull on the swimsuit. Down to the yard I'd return where everyone was splashing and playing in the pool, and sit in the water. The day's troubles would wash away. Afterward, we'd go inside for dinner or go for our bike ride with the pup.