Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.


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Heading home!

Want to hear some good news?  Husband’s Aunt is headed home tomorrow!  She’s been out of her apartment for close to 6 weeks.  First in the hospital for a week, then here for a week, then back in the hospital for another week and now 3 weeks in a nursing home doing physical therapy and getting her strength back.  She’s a very determined woman, and appears to be stronger than ever.   We’re grateful for all the care and physical challenges she’s experienced in the nursing home.

But what an experience a nursing home is, even for me who was only visiting, much less for a competent, sharp and vital woman who just happens to have some issues with her balance and stamina.  It’s not a place I’d want anyone to have to live in, yet it was the place that helped her get strong again.  I have mixed emotions about the whole thing.  She, on the other hand, vows never to go back.

Last Monday I was sitting with her in the lobby watching people come and go, a main source of entertainment for us, when a little lady in a wheelchair rolled over to talk to my Aunt.  Seems she lives in the same building that my Aunt lives in, though they didn’t know each other.  She had heard Aunt V was headed home, and she stopped by to say goodbye and to talk a bit about life “on the outside.”

She was facing a difficult decision; whether to go back home to her apartment, to stay at the nursing home or go to live with her daughter.  She said that the staff told her she could do whatever she wished, though they hadn’t been able to get her walking again.  I asked her what she really wanted to do.  She wants to go back to her apartment, and you could tell she was feeling sad that Aunt V was going back and she wasn’t sure she ever would.

She said she’d been out of her apartment for over a month and after being in the nursing home for that long she had ‘lost the courage’ she had to live on her own again.  She was afraid of going home and living alone, yet she didn’t want to give that independence up either.  We talked for quite awhile, and I encouraged her to be brave, but I don’t know what she will ultimately decide to do.  I felt sad for her as she wheeled herself back to her room.  With a little bit of assistance she might be able to live on her own for awhile longer.  Who knows.

I hope when I’m her age I can hang onto my courage and take the risk to do what I really want to do.  Heck.  Even these days it often takes courage to take a risk and do what you really want to do.  I’m giving Aunt V credit for going after something she wanted.

Even at age 95.


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Kids say…

…well you know.  If you’re of a certain age you remember Art Linkletter and his show with the kids that say the darnedest things.  I think Bill Cosby did something similar.

So if you want to read some of the things one ingenious little boy says…head over to this blog.  He’s four years old now and continues to make me smile with things he says.

You’ll smile too.


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Katie says…

“Happy 4th of July!” to all of you.

And she reminds us that freedom is not free.  Please take a moment to remember all of those people that work so hard to make sure we stay free.  And especially those that have died keeping us safe.

Everybody – – stay safe out there this holiday weekend!


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4th of July picking

Up here in Michigan the 4th of July means it’s cherry picking time.  At least around here.  Though sometimes I’ve missed the whole crop when it’s been early, waiting till the 4th to check with the orchard.  But this year the fruit is right on time.

When I was a kid we used to all pile into the station wagon and head for this very orchard.  Cherries are one my favorite things to pick.  No thorns, they’re usually at eye level, so no stooping, they’re beautiful when the sun shines on them.  And they taste good too.  Though tart cherries might be an acquired taste.  We grew up on them, so I laugh as I listen to other people in the orchard tasting them straight off the tree.  Pretty sour!

At Spicers Orchard your cherry picking adventure starts with a ride in the wagon pulled behind a tractor.  This morning I was the only one heading out and I remembered driving a tractor as a kid at my uncle’s farm.  Frankly, I’d rather be driving than sitting in the bouncy trailer eating his dust.  But that’s another blog.

Eventually he dropped me off near the fully loaded trees.

The most important part of any picking is choosing the exact right tree to work on.  We were trained as youngsters not to waste any fruit; to stick to your tree and pick all the ripe fruit before you moved on.  To crawl under the tree and look up, where you’d find some of the best, most ripe fruit.  So you want to find a good tree right off the bat.

And just like you wouldn’t jump into a row of strawberries that someone else is picking in, you don’t walk up to a tree that someone is already working on.  There are plenty for everyone, so you find your own tree.  Didn’t everyone get raised  with property fruit picking etiquette?

Apparently not.

As I’m under my tree, reaching high in the branches for the most succulent, translucent ripe cherries two people climb off the latest trailer and walk directly to my tree, three rows in from the road, and begin to pick!  The entire orchard is empty except for me, under my tree.  They are talking loudly and non stop in an Asian language that of course I can’t follow.  And though it’s interesting to try to pick out what they’re talking about, there on the other side of the trunk of my tree, it’s also annoying.  Because part of what I enjoy about picking fruit is the relative peacefulness of it all.

Perhaps this is a cultural thing.  Perhaps if you come from a country where space is at a premium you have never had the experience of having personal space.  Nor do you know that in a rural orchard personal space encompasses an entire tree.  I decide to chalk it up to that and continue picking, smiling as they stay only a few minutes then wander away, still talking nonstop.

They probably never even saw me.  And paradoxically, I am a bit lonely when they leave.  Because another part of fruit picking is that it’s generally done by families, and I miss my family this holiday weekend.  So I will freeze a few packages of cherries, the better to make our traditional cherry pie, the next time they come up for a visit.  Might even use it as a bribe to get them to come north.

 

Better get to pitting.  You didn’t think the work was done with the picking did you?

 


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Stary stary night, croaking frogs, bumbling bugs, fireworks and a sheltie-girl

Katie and I had a lovely warm evening last night to spend camping in the back yard.  I was so tired that we went to bed at 9 — before it was even dark.  As I was gathering up our supplies I glanced out toward the tent and wouldn’t you know it, there was our friend mama deer, standing near the house, munching on a shrub.  Just waiting, I guess, to terrorize us some more.

After she left the yard we settled in.  Sort of.  Katie got up to look out the window at every little sound.  And there was a lot of sound.  Some township nearby was having their local fireworks, so there was the sound similar to distant thunder.  Nearby someone was setting off popping fireworks.  Two bugs managed to get caught under the rain fly of the tent and buzzed around, bumbling into the ceiling of the tent for what seemed like a long time.  The next door neighbor was in the backyard calling for her dog.  Forty-five minutes into our night the deer snorted at us.  Katie didn’t bark at any of it. But she checked each sound out.  No sleeping allowed.

Eventually we settled in to watch the fireflies and the stars, periodically rearranging ourselves, her on and off the mattress, me moving over to make room, moving again to reclaim my space when she chose her own pillow instead.  After two hours of this she began to whine.  I sighed and found my shoes and her leash and we went back outside.  She had to GO MOM!  Geeze!

Back in the tent things were quieter, and we both fell asleep…until I woke with a start to Katie’s frantic barking.  I thought she’d wake up the whole neighborhood and I couldn’t get her to quiet down enough for me to hear whatever was upsetting her.  In between her barks I could tell something was walking around out there, something small, making a cat-like sound.  Didn’t bother me much, but Katie was outraged.  Apparently a lot of night creatures like to explore near sleeping humans at 2:00 a.m. as this was about the same time of night that we were scared back into the house last weekend.

After about 45 minutes of on and off barking I gave up and we went inside, serenaded by very loud bullfrogs in the pond across the road.   Silly dog.  It was such a lovely night and I was enjoying my sleep in the night air. Tonight I’m considering leaving her in with her Dad and trying again.  But I’m moving the tent even closer to the house.

Cause I’m as big a chicken as she is.  I just don’t bark as much.

 


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It's summer…and the camping is easy. Or not.

Most of you know that Katie and I camp out in the back yard during warm summer nights.  That’s a bit harder to do now that I’m working;  I suppose I could try it on a work night but I think I’d be a wreck at work the next day.  So we have to wait for nice weekend nights before we head out for our camping adventures.

We got the tent out last weekend, Katie and I, and put it up on Saturday afternoon for our seasonal inaugural back yard camp-out.   I tucked it way out at the back of our yard, behind a big blue spruce near the woods.

Just as soon as we were back in the house I saw a mama deer wander out of the woods and walk over to the tent, inspect it then casually continue to the neighbor’s yard.  Hmmm I thought, that was interesting!

So around 10 that night Katie and I headed out.  Me with my phone, my water, my flashlight and my dog.  We settled right in, she plopped down on her pile of pillows, and I snuggled in under my blankets.  We were asleep instantly.

Suddenly Katie was barking hysterically and I was clawing my way back to consciousness aware of some sort of alien noise.  A noise very close to us.  I grabbed Katie and held her tight and she went quiet.  We both held our breath and waited.  Then it happened again.  Three snorts.  Just outside the tent.  Katie wimpered.  I held her tighter.  We stayed still.  More snorting and a stick cracking.  She began to bark.  I shushed her.

Everything went  quiet…and eventually we settled back down.  But not to sleep, no we were both wide awake and on high alert.  Then as we began to drift off the snorting began again, on the other side of the tent.  OK.  That’s enough, I was envisioning some wild animal crashing through our little tent.

I turned on the flashlight, made a great deal of noise and Katie and I hightailed it back to the house.  It was 2:00 a.m.  I got online to find out what makes that sort of noise and guess what?  Deer do, when they feel threatened!  Who knew!?!  Maybe there were baby deer somewhere nearby and Mama was trying to figure out what smelly thing was inside the tent?

Anyway, it was a lot of work to set up camp only to stay out a few hours.  So Katie and I are going to try again this weekend.  I moved the tent closer to the house.

Cause I’d like to make it through the night this time.

 


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Pretty things in my own yard.

Sometimes I feel restless and wish I could move somewhere brand new.

Then we have a beautiful day like today – and as I work in my gardens I realize it’s pretty darn nice right here.

Especially if I could someday get caught up on the weeding.

Though I suppose weeding is never done.  Ever.

Tomorrow is supposed to be even prettier than today;  though maybe a bit too hot to weed.

Darn.


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Walking with random thoughts

Do any of you remember pine cone wreaths?  OK – that probably dated me, but I remember my Mom making pine cone wreaths in the 70’s.

You took a bunch of pine cones and glued them to a wire wreath, then sprayed them with something to seal them.  They were actually pretty.

Every day at work I try to get out at lunch for a walk around the neighborhood; it’s the best part of my day.  Lately I’ve noticed a lot of pine cones under trees along the way and they make me smile, because back in the day the hardest thing about making a pine cone wreath was finding the pine cones.  So seeing them all there, ready for the picking, makes me think of Mom.  She would have been excited to find so many.

On my walk the other day I saw a beautiful climbing rose hanging over someone’s backyard fence.

I thought how interesting it was that the prettiest part of the plant was where the owner wouldn’t see it.  That sometimes the best stuff is just out of sight and takes a little work to enjoy.

Isn’t that the way most best stuff usually turns out to be?