The sun was low behind the maple trees when I walked out onto my back porch with my digital camera.

The air was still warm, smelling of fresh sawdust and the damp, dark mulch Tyler had spread over my grass.

On the other side of the cedar fence, the wooden framing for the pool deck was already taking shape.

Heavy yellow pine joists were bolted together, extending several feet past the orange surveyor flags Carl had driven into the ground.

It was clear they were planning to pour the concrete right up to the new fence line.