Sorry .. a day late …
Last week provided an unexpected two days of joy. The aspen trees which had been planted between this small community and the RV park next door had grown to the point that the view of the Mountain from my front porch had become obscured. I knew she was to the north, but not exactly where.
Last thursday most of the aspens had dropped all their leaves and the sky cleared and there She was …
She doesn’t look the same as before, but I am now seeing Her (when I can and the trees are bare) from the south rather than the west.
Then last tuesday we had our first snow … about 2”. It melted with the next rain. But I was up early and saw deer tracks in the snow beneath my office window.
This morning was clear when I first looked and the sun was shining. But by 0800 clouds had moved in. I’ll keep checking. Seeing Her makes me happy.
I just have to remember to check every morning during late autumn and winter to see if the view is clear.
~~~
A self-doubting anxiety resolution began yesterday.
The time with Mark routine had settled into wednesday mornings. Mark drops Paul off at school and then comes here to see what I need to do or have done and to do his church work on his iPad. Yesterday it was time for me to try my driving skills.
It felt strange after nearly three months and my success-failure expectation ratio was not in balance. However the only big re-learning was the brakes. On the pick-up, brakes required determination. In the Volvo soft is the word.
I drove to the post office and then made a stop at the local grocery on the way back home. Not a very far excursion (at most 2.5 or 3 miles).
By the time we got the groceries into the house and I had most of them unpacked (fridge and freezer stuff) I was pooped physically but my anxiety over whether I could do it was lowered.
Next wednesday will be a second trial run.
~~~
Last week’s early morning anxiety hour presented a new challenge.
During moving all that stuff, I couldn’t recall what happened to the fire safe containing the “engagement” ring George bought for me in that small, basement shop in Milwaukee. It also contained my passport, the set of pearl necklace and earrings he gave me, and other assorted important items.
The question filled a couple of anxiety hours and then one morning, when I was in the closet rearranging my underwear, there was the safe … under the black panties.
Now all I need do is find the correct keys for it among all the keys left for this house or for other items belonging to one or both of my grandmothers (most of which were unlabelled or labeled incorrectly) and who knows what else.
I have no idea how long sorting out all those will require.
However, one discovery was that the keys which had been labeled for this house’s back door and set aside as not working, actually do work. You just have to fiddle with them a bit like a safe cracker listening and feeling for a click. I gave the locks a spritz with WD40. We’ll see what that does.
Onward …
~~~
The “Grandmother” clock is home. When I was moving off the farm to polish and do any necessary repairs John had taken her. She has been in George’s possession (and now mine) since Grandmother Shaffer died back in the 50s. She had run well for so many years, but when George was failing she began failing as well and needed attention.
Last tuesday (the 9th) John brought her back to me. She is over 120 years old. She still needs more work because of her age, but that work will have to be done by someone who builds new works for aged ladies (both the clock and her owner).
That is on the to-do-later list.
However, for now she is keeping good time and hearing her chime during the night is soothing.
~~~
There were also a couple of giggle-producers last week as well, but they will wait for another week …
With writing your memoir all in fashion, there is something you need to keep in mind. Make sure you can distinguish, when remembering, between what is actually what you saw, heard, participated in yourself or knew about a close friend from what an author of a recent “autobiography” calls “artistic “imagination”.
It’s a fine line. Good luck.
So … ‘til next week …