Hanging In There

Every time I pick zinnias now I am sure that it will be the last bunch of the summer and yet, I got some pretty ones today. I did pull a few of the plants that were brown and dried. They for sure are done. On to the towering inferno burn pile they went. Funny how the lavender, pink, and purple ones are the first to bloom and the yellows, oranges, and reds are the last. I'm already seeing volunteer shoots coming up in the garden, seeded from the third or fourth generation of volunteers that have grown there. They are almost all lavender and pink. 

I took a walk this morning. I did not enjoy it. It's just not as easy as it used to be. I have been thinking about this so much. I know that I am out of shape. Badly. And I know I have too much weight on this old body. And hell, I'm not twenty-nine or forty-nine or fifty-nine. I am sixty-nine. I tell myself this and then I think of the women my age who run marathons and do Iron Man competitions, who bike across the country through deserts and mountains. I feel pathetic. And my joints just hurt. And so do my muscles. This, too, has to be blamed at least partly on the weight. I know that. But it's not all that. After yesterday's short weeding session, my hips screamed at me today and my knees weren't happy either. It took me a long time after my walk to get my ass back outside and I did a little more weeding, not right where I was yesterday but inside the fence in the area to the right of the gate. I did pull all the crocosmia there this very year, I think and when I say "all" I am lying. I may have pulled all of it that was sticking up out of the ground but that's probably about a twentieth of what's going on under the ground where those bulbs form and sprout. I'm also pulling Chinese Rice Paper Plant which both Glen and I have worked so hard to eradicate but, like the crocosmia, it's never a one-and-done. We've cut down the number of plants significantly but if I don't get in there and pull what's come up this summer, it'll all be back by spring, fighting for dirt space with the crocosmia. There's another plant I'm seeing a lot of and it's called Creeping Cucumber. It's a very thin vine with almost sticky leaves and tiny fruits that look like miniature watermelons. I've seen it before but all of a sudden- it's everywhere in the front part of the yard. 

Anyway, getting down on my knees to weed this afternoon was a special sort of torture and after about half an hour my left knee started screaming so I hauled myself up and came on back in the house. 

Here's another Harvey story. And I have to tell you that what I've been calling him is not "Old Man Lord" but "No Man Lord" because for a long time he had a sign on a cross he'd built in his yard that said that. No Man Lord. I assume he meant that no man is Lord, but only Jesus. The Lord. But his real name is Harvey.

I do not know what's come over him but today when I walked past his yard, he not only waved, he talked to me. Again! 
He said something and I'm not sure what it was, but it sounded friendly. So I asked him what had happened to his fence, I think I've talked before about how his yard can change radically from one day to another. He does a lot of what I would call art installations although I am certain he does not think of them that way, many of them religiously based. Okay. All of them. He may spell out religious messages with flattened aluminum cans and one time he used slices of bread. He has a bible that's about as big a bible as I've ever seen and he sits under his tree and reads it sometimes. 

But today, his fence was entirely gone and he told me that he was getting rid of everything he did not need. And giving it to...I missed that part. The church? God? I don't know. But this is a man who lives in an old RV with a tarp on it with no electricity and the only running water comes from a spigot down by the road. What could he possibly have that he doesn't need? 

A fence. I guess he doesn't need a fence. 
But then he said something to me that I could not believe. I had to ask him to repeat it. What he said was that it's like when he sees me coming, there is a light above me. 

Oh, bless him. I told him that I felt the same way about him. And all these years, I've never had the slightest indication that he was anything but annoyed with me. How many times have I passed him sitting under his tree and even greeted him to complete silence and no reaction on his part. 
Well. He's a mystery. And perhaps he's bi-polar. Who knows? 
People are hard to figure out sometimes. But I felt humbled this morning. I felt graced. 

That was for sure the high point of my day. Tomorrow is my annual physical with my beloved Dr. Zorn. And you know how I am about that. Strangely, I am not as panicked as I usually am which is almost as disturbing as the panic would be. I am not feeling exactly laissez faire about it. It's more that I'm feeling like I've skipped the panic part and gone straight to the dissociation part which usually doesn't kick in until I'm on my way to the appointment. 

Whatever. 
After I got my blood work done, I was invited via e-mail to view the results which was about as attractive a proposition to me as being invited to attend a death metal concert in an underground bunker. You know what? I'd definitely choose that over looking at the results of my lab work. 

Enough of that. If I discover that I'm dying, I'll let you know tomorrow. Meanwhile, here are two pictures of the Weatherford brothers. The first one came to the group text with the message, "The boys wanted dyed hair and tattoos on their day off so I obliged." Hank replied, "Hooligans, I say!" 

The second one said, "I couldn't be in the house with these two any longer so we're at Shell Point and they're catching jellyfish."

All these years I've spent near and in the water and I have always thought that all jellyfish will sting you. 
I guess not. 

I'm going to go heat up that good soup. The man had it for lunch but he says he is quite happy to have it again tonight. 
He's a sweetheart. 

Love...Ms. Moon