Labor Day Weekend

Well it is that for me: a weekend of rest. Feels weird. For one thing, I am incapable of "sleeping in," so I have an extra long day of rest because I am up so very early.

 

We had some storms at night. I'm glad. It's been so beastly dry. Had it not rained, I would have felt compelled to go over and water Steffi's lawn, but with a good inch of a steady rainfall, I feel that ought to do for now. We also have some felled branches on the farmette lands, from the winds that came through this way. I'll leave that clean up to Ed! 

And speaking of the sailor himself, I finally heard from him early this morning. He didn't have internet or cell service, but now he's zipping along sprightly so I expect the trip will not be terribly long in the end. Wait, I best not jinx it!

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I haven't much interest in weeding today, but I do snip some spent phlox. It looks unattractive otherwise and, too, if I let it drop to the ground, it throws down seeds everywhere, and the flower fields become one big phlox meadow. I dont want one big phlox meadow. And of course, I still go after the spent lilies. There aren't many, but there are some and I have to hand it to them -- they'll be blooming into the first days of September. Remarkable, considering how warm this summer has been.

 

 

Breakfast. On the porch. Leftover treats from Mindy's. Very yummy.

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There are some tasks that require my careful attention, whether it's Labor Day weekend or any other day of the year. The animals. My mother.

A word about her because it's been a while since I did an update here. She's declining in mood. From not so good, to really not so good, and actually pretty close to terrible right now. I again had a long conversation with the head nurse (and we are having a team meeting in a couple of weeks -- something that happens on a quarterly basis in the place where she lives) and we are pretty much in agreement -- my mother blames the staff for her troubles and refuses to cooperate with them because she is convinced that they are all ill-tempered beasts. The nurse explained that this is not unusual for people in the end stages of dementia. The loss of control does that to you. You become a different person. In my mother's case though, it's a little different because although she can be forgetful about daily stuff, she shows no sign of real dementia. Her attitude (finding trouble with whoever, for whatever reason) is one that she brought into the game. Don't I know it! So, we're all struggling to make the best of it, but my daily conversations with her have now deteriorated into long periods of listening to her spin herself into a real tizzy of gloom. She no longer looks for information from me, she certainly refuses to touch the computer, she asks questions that always have just a one word answer because this all she wants. "Fine." Coupled with "I'm sorry you are having a terrible day." Sometimes she'll fantasize about the past, inventing stories of how it was. That's okay by me. I prefer that fiction to an endless "this place is hell."

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A weekend without structure is grand, but I do manage to fill at least this day with small tasks and a lot of them are done online, meaning in a sitting position. That's not good! By late afternoon I push myself out the door for a bike ride. Just a short one. To move and unstiffen my knees! 

And as I ride my wonderful electric Alpine Blue, I extend the ride, and then I extend it some more, steering myself toward our beloved county park and from there, I again pick up our farmette road, but with a pause, because look who we have here, at the side, munching away at the corn! Two babes and a mommy urging them to get out of the spotlight!

And further down, a third babe!

How can you not love a bike ride along these country roads!

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One fourth of the long week-end behind me! Wait, is tomorrow Saturday? Without structure, I can hardly tell. Let's see if I can rouse myself to do something more adventurous. Maybe. 

with love...