I'd finished the roof, deck, and all but the last ten feet of driveway when the leaf blower ran out of gas. It seemed easier to put it away and get out a broom to finish up so there I was on a beautiful Sunday early afternoon with the virtually spotless house and pavement, looking like I'd diligently swept the whole thing. Despite the pleasant background murmur of the running creek, it was still possible to hear the hiss of approaching bicycle tires on the road and the squeaking of their brakes from up the road.
I paused my sweeping as the first one passed the mailbox and rolled down along the length of our frontage. About halfway along he waved to his following companion to direct her attention at the house, then saw me down by the garage leaning on my broom and called, "Love your house!"
There was time before the two of them had sped down past our place as far as the little bridge to yell back, "Thank you! So do we!"
Scouring the last bits of tree duff off the remaining area was surprisingly enjoyable.