floor4_aWhen I think how easy my life should be. I mean after all, all four limbs do fairly much what they are told, when they can carry the ever increasing load (my fault!) –but, somehow I managed to get myself locked into a grave yard and up a creek I can not cross. My silly story --
The lucky thing is, it is not far from my house, this duPont family graveyard. I have made two pewter plaques that conform to boulders – this is a crazy idea I did not come up with myself. There are actually two plaques for two boulders and one has the text of the last entry of a sailing log recording a solo crossing from Bermuda to Tortola in the BVI. This is for the son of my friend and he has died too, too young. His Mom’s (she is still very much alive and kicking) she has ordered hers up, so that she can make it as she likes it, and it has a beautiful sweeping tulip tree stretched along one edge and some writing, and!!!!!!!! her favorite dog there with her. Anyway, short long story -- I am working on getting moss to grow around the stone, right? And I am absorbed in that, and then ..... today I am with a really, really good friend, and she said that she thought she'd blown it about getting a stone made for her parents (her Mom died this winter or last fall maybe) because she had a fall two years back (from a horse) (and maybe a stroke they think) and she was out!!!!!! for 36 days in post traumatic amnesia (a kind of coma I guess) -- so the story goes on. (P.S. She has introduced me to the word postlapsarian which I now try to find use for in my casual conversation!
So, after I went to water the moss at the pewter plaques -- I began to search the graveyard for her mother’s and father's stone.
There is a walled old part and a newer part. She thought they were within the old part (where I parked my car and I began to look there and then I did finally find her parents stone, but they are along the wall on the outside. And I had combed every square inch within the walled area and some areas are very overgrown, old, old stones and old corners where ivy is almost a foot high and the trees have encroached and tumbled the stones. So from inside and then looking outside I have completely lost track of the time and the lock-up man must have missed my car, parked in the circle and he's come and gone and.......
Click click! this man, who opens the gates in the morning and locks them at night has locked my car in. Soooo, I am inside a wrought iron gate and it is padlocked, but I can go over the stone wall, but then I think I am going to take the short cut (I thought it would be) across Rocky Run which runs behind my development and between my development and the graveyard, which is perhaps a quarter to a half mile away, as the crow flies. So, I think -- well I used to walk the copse there all the time, I can throw a log across the one part of the stream and go behind the other housing development which is fairly new and then I’ll get to my copse and cross the stream again and be in my own neighborhood. But I do the first crossing on a slippery muddy bank which affords me a muddy pants knee, but nothing too extreme -- and get to the next stream crossing, but the bank is so eroded that it is completely vertical and all slick, slick clay and there is just no way to jump and get a toe hold onto it -- so I have to back track to an alternate crossing - meanwhile I found the remains of white, white feathers, which must be a goose, I think, and I am wondering who’s dog has captured whose pet goose? – and then there is a large fox hole (I think it is too big to be a ground hog hole) so maybe this is not the work of a neighborhood dog, but the wily fox. I have a vixen behind my house often in the evenings nd at dawn.
Anyway I come home and I am supposed to go hear a friend’s concert, but instead I just plop in for a soak in the tub, and proceed to fall fast asleep, while supposedly watching a movie with Bill (a Mad Max - very sophisticated stuff here in DE for us intellectuals). And now I am awake to see Fred looking so Fred sitting at the computer. Yippie FRED! What a kick to see it and to read he’s standing and I am thinking can’t wait to take him on a walk with me - right he’s gonna wanta go with you after that story -- but a swim in Woods Pond now there’s another thought altogether - & Sooooo great to see the brothers too, and all these wonderful therapists. What a team has been assembled. P. thanks for the Stika info. I love reading about all that. Ciao for now.
Slumber, sleep, may it find you and keep you longer in the cradle of its embrace. (How do I make it look like snoring in letters – it’s that nasal gravelly sound like a pig’s grunt and then a long, long whistle and a snuffle at the end!!!!!! LOVE YA all -Annie O
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floor4_aWhen I think how easy my life should be. I mean after all, all four limbs do fairly much what they are told, when they can carry the ever increasing load (my fault!) –but, somehow I managed to get myself locked into a grave yard and up a creek I can not cross. My silly story --
The lucky thing is, it is not far from my house, this duPont family graveyard. I have made two pewter plaques that conform to boulders – this is a crazy idea I did not come up with myself. There are actually two plaques for two boulders and one has the text of the last entry of a sailing log recording a solo crossing from Bermuda to Tortola in the BVI. This is for the son of my friend and he has died too, too young. His Mom’s (she is still very much alive and kicking) she has ordered hers up, so that she can make it as she likes it, and it has a beautiful sweeping tulip tree stretched along one edge and some writing, and!!!!!!!! her favorite dog there with her. Anyway, short long story -- I am working on getting moss to grow around the stone, right? And I am absorbed in that, and then ..... today I am with a really, really good friend, and she said that she thought she'd blown it about getting a stone made for her parents (her Mom died this winter or last fall maybe) because she had a fall two years back (from a horse) (and maybe a stroke they think) and she was out!!!!!! for 36 days in post traumatic amnesia (a kind of coma I guess) -- so the story goes on. (P.S. She has introduced me to the word postlapsarian which I now try to find use for in my casual conversation!
So, after I went to water the moss at the pewter plaques -- I began to search the graveyard for her mother’s and father's stone.
There is a walled old part and a newer part. She thought they were within the old part (where I parked my car and I began to look there and then I did finally find her parents stone, but they are along the wall on the outside. And I had combed every square inch within the walled area and some areas are very overgrown, old, old stones and old corners where ivy is almost a foot high and the trees have encroached and tumbled the stones. So from inside and then looking outside I have completely lost track of the time and the lock-up man must have missed my car, parked in the circle and he's come and gone and.......
Click click! this man, who opens the gates in the morning and locks them at night has locked my car in. Soooo, I am inside a wrought iron gate and it is padlocked, but I can go over the stone wall, but then I think I am going to take the short cut (I thought it would be) across Rocky Run which runs behind my development and between my development and the graveyard, which is perhaps a quarter to a half mile away, as the crow flies. So, I think -- well I used to walk the copse there all the time, I can throw a log across the one part of the stream and go behind the other housing development which is fairly new and then I’ll get to my copse and cross the stream again and be in my own neighborhood. But I do the first crossing on a slippery muddy bank which affords me a muddy pants knee, but nothing too extreme -- and get to the next stream crossing, but the bank is so eroded that it is completely vertical and all slick, slick clay and there is just no way to jump and get a toe hold onto it -- so I have to back track to an alternate crossing - meanwhile I found the remains of white, white feathers, which must be a goose, I think, and I am wondering who’s dog has captured whose pet goose? – and then there is a large fox hole (I think it is too big to be a ground hog hole) so maybe this is not the work of a neighborhood dog, but the wily fox. I have a vixen behind my house often in the evenings nd at dawn.
Anyway I come home and I am supposed to go hear a friend’s concert, but instead I just plop in for a soak in the tub, and proceed to fall fast asleep, while supposedly watching a movie with Bill (a Mad Max - very sophisticated stuff here in DE for us intellectuals). And now I am awake to see Fred looking so Fred sitting at the computer. Yippie FRED! What a kick to see it and to read he’s standing and I am thinking can’t wait to take him on a walk with me - right he’s gonna wanta go with you after that story -- but a swim in Woods Pond now there’s another thought altogether - & Sooooo great to see the brothers too, and all these wonderful therapists. What a team has been assembled. P. thanks for the Stika info. I love reading about all that. Ciao for now.
Slumber, sleep, may it find you and keep you longer in the cradle of its embrace. (How do I make it look like snoring in letters – it’s that nasal gravelly sound like a pig’s grunt and then a long, long whistle and a snuffle at the end!!!!!! LOVE YA all -Annie O
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