The autumn colors have me fired up and I’m making changes in the garden. I’m pulling out and giving away, putting in steps once I figure out what I want, and planting a few new things. I love the ever changing art form of the garden. It evolves as it matures, plus I figure out what works for me and what doesn’t. I am lazy about things that must be pruned. A little shaping is one thing, but having to cut back something that is bigger than me every year is a whole other thing.
Another thing I don’t like is the voracious, giant grasshoppers that have survived the chemicals and me stepping on every one I see. They, along with the coyotes will be the last survivors when we wear out our planet and can no longer sustain ourselves. The coyotes will eat the grasshoppers, or vice versa depending on how big these suckers can grow in the future.
I used my right hand so much to clip up branches that it got sore and I had to switch to my left. Fortunately, my left is pretty good. I can paint with it or clip or whatever needs to be done.
I am headed back over the mountain. My son took his family over last week, and so Mom has now met all five of her great-grandchildren. I am extremely grateful for that. Ninety-eight is a long time to hang in there. I give her Welsh ancestry all the credit. Tough as nails. It’s hard to think of Mom passing on, but it will truly be a blessing when she is no longer in pain. Her legs have become too weak for her to transfer herself from her bed to her wheel chair, and that has resulted in several falls. Thank goodness for Visiting Angels and Home Health nurses. Without them, Mom’s wish to die at home could not happen. My deepest respect and admiration for caregivers. Bless you.