Well, we're both hold. The Husband and me. Oh, he won't like me saying that. But, it is true. We are old.
Yesterday, we pedaled our cruiser bicycles against that defiant wind for several miles to buy three pounds of freshly-picked locally grown, sun-kissed cherries.
Very yummy cherries indeed.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining about getting older. As wise folks say, "What's the use of complaining?" I'm just stating the fact today to myself, and you happen to be in on it.
Still, no matter how old I am, the Mama is older.
As many of you know, nothing is going to stop her from doing what she wants to do. Example: The back yard that is her jungle of a vegetable garden. The better description is the mad scientist's horticultural sandbox. Any day, I expect her to tell me that she tore out all the bean plants and sown new seeds. Why? Because she can't stand that the plants are producing two and three inch beans, which the Husband and I are happily consuming one meal at a time.
Here's a look at her garden today.
Here's how it looked one month ago. Believe me when I say she does the garden by herself. She only lets me water the chayote vines (which aren't seen here) and that's after I whined I had to learn some day. Maybe next year, I'll get promoted to watering the bittermelon rows.
Here's a closer look of the Mama's garden today:
And, there she was at it one month ago!
I hope that I will be able to reach much older.