In my mind, I'm five years old having a high old time wandering and wondering. In reality, I'm 65, the magic age for Medicare, thank you very much! I tell you a lot of creativity is still to be found in this old young self. In you, too, whatever your age. Welcome to my barefoot world!
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The Mama's Vegetable Plot
If you ask the mama how old she is, she will usually say, "I'm 100 years old."
And, depending on who you are, she might give you a smile or a look that tells you she thinks you're a moron.
So, how old is the mama? She has told me not to tell. But I can say that the mama is 30-some years older than me, and I'm already considered a senior by AARP.
Age does not slow the mama down. The weather does. First it was rain, now it's the chilly wind that keeps her from spending all day playing outside in her garden patches. I'm grateful for that. The cold weather, that is. It buys the husband and me time to figure out how to prep a smaller vegetable garden space without it being too obvious. Her vegetable garden, you see, is practically the whole back yard.
When the husband and I first moved in with the mama, we made a point of staying out of her garden. It is her domain, her zen, her centering place. With each year, though, I've been casually going out there a bit more to carry heavy objects, water plants, hammer a board back in place, chop a stump back, or do something else that I notice the mama may be struggling with. Asking for help is still a tough thing for her to ask.
Last week when she was looking through a seed catalog, I mentioned that she do a smaller garden this year because it was so tiring for her last season. She didn't say a thing. The mama doesn't express her feelings verbally. I go by her body language and behavior and it seemed that she was agreeable with the idea. I think.
We'll see how it goes in a few weeks. Right now, I need to find an online seed company to buy some organic bush bean seeds for her.
Gourd vines (with the white blossoms) climbing upwards into the mama's persimmon tree.