My 97 year old grandmother has decided that she’s done. She is refusing food and medication, and it won’t be long til she slips past the border of this life into whatever mysteries await her next. Yesterday I wrote her one last letter. An aide, or if I’m lucky, my cousin, will read it to her, since by now her macular degeneration renders her functionally blind.
Sweetpea and I set out for the mailbox yesterday to put the letter out for the carrier. On the way, I noticed a tendril of one-seeded burr cucumber vine grabbing at a neighboring Queen Anne’s Lace.
I guess we all grasp at life, for as long as we can, until we just can’t any more. I can’t blame her. In fact, I admire her, for her courage in deciding what’s right for her.
It’s been a week of pain, mostly, as my shattered nose figures out how to rebuild itself. I’ve had a couple of days of ruinous discomfort and eyestrain (from not being able to wear my glasses). This is not helped by the lack of exercise, and inadequate time outdoors. This morning, I felt as though I had given up my right to expect miracles, but I swung the camera bag on my shoulder anyway. I was hoping to find inspiration in anything, anything at all. As I wiggled my toes into my sandals I thought I saw something blue out of the corner of my eye. Two flashes, down by the hostas under the front windows of the house.
Oh my. What’s this? I’ve never seen it before.
Tis Asiatic dayflower (Commelina communis). In the west, we call this an invasive weed. In the east, it has all sorts of medicinal uses. Why does this not surprise me?
Little-known fact: when you don’t mow the lawn frequently, the hostas send out invader parties.
And the syrphid flies celebrate in the overgrown, gone-to-seed grass. Who wouldn’t fall in love with this guy?
The plan for today was to get out in the boats. We headed to the Harriman Reservoir.
That’s Mt. Haystack. Just behind it is Mt. Snow, scene of last weekend’s Tough Mudder event (aka nose breakage).
I took my last prescription pain pill this morning. From here on out, it’s over the counter meds. And tomorrow, at long last, I have an appointment with the specialist who will tell me if I need surgery.