Seems when you have a long narrow lot with lots of neighbors bordering it, you get one or two with a lot of balls. These were gathered one summer when The Strange One decided to take up golf. Later he switched to shooting arrows into my yard. He is no longer around. Current collection of neighbors seem to all be good ones.
Phoebe still finds the occasional tennis ball from the neighbor with the tennis court, the occasional soccar ball from the grade school behind us, and an assortment of balls from the little boys next door. The latter two we usually lob back over the fence. The tennis balls are usually "dead" but I know a Black Lab who is ever so happy to receive them.
Spring has sprung, the wild garlic has riz and so has this daffy! I think this old step ladder is about 50 years old. And no, it is not the ladder I fell off of a couple weeks ago. This relic quivvers with the weight of a squirrel. I weigh a tad bit more than a squirrel.
Ta-DA! The bird house is back up where it belongs. Is that not a lovely job of bracing The Brother did to make the pole stand up? :>)