An Attack on Vine Country

The encroaching vines got a big dose of setback today as I did some species cleansing in the lilac bushes, digging, chopping, and pulling trees, shrubs, and especially vines out of what is supposed to be a section for lilacs. The foliage now seems thinner, but next spring I hope to see a thicker crop of lilac bushes.
I moved a few trees, too, and tidied up the yard. Four days of rain had put the grass in overdrive, and I found these mushrooms back in the trees. The wood reminded me of Frost's poem "The Woodpile,"
with the lines, "I thought that only
Someone who lived in turning to fresh tasks
Could so forget his handiwork on which
He spent himself."
The old wood, some of it from an old apple tree in the yard, was giving off the enchanting, musky odor of apple wine, damp and delicious. After a beautiful day, some of it outside, my thoughts often turning to the moment, five years ago, when my wife and I first held hands, I was pleased to turn to the house, its back light lit, the day fading, a good day of work done.