Mom & Me Five Archive

    The day was long and busy and I felt as though I was ready to retire when Mom did, but it's also our first "warm" night. The word "warm" is relative. Although the weather cast predicted a low of 56°F in Prescott Proper, the thermometer outside the coldest corner of our house reads 48°F as I'm typing this. My guess is that "the darkest hour" will probably dip to 40°F or so up here. Thing is, for a good couple of weeks, now, I've been sleeping on the floor in front of the open Arcadia door in the back bedroom, snug in my down-everything bedding. Tonight it's too warm for all that bedding but as I stripped layer after layer, I worked myself into an endorphin buzz. So, I decided to get up. There's not an awful lot I can do without making enough noise to awaken Mom and I don't feel like reading, so I thought I'd sit here in low light, drink some decaf coffee and mention some things that have been on my mind (none of them catch up things).
    Our opportunistic tree is in its fourth year and looks like a mature tree of any other slow growth species. I can see most of its foliage, through our pseudo cathedral windows, waving in the breeze, glimmering in the cast off from the street light across from our property. Today, during my first yard maintenance period, some bicyclers (the road in front of our property is part of a very popular "forest" biking trail because it's a diagonal work-out and rewards the cycler by topping out at Thumb Butte) actually rested in its shade! I was so pleased and proud. Our property has always been inviting to passers-by, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that it is the only place along this road where vehicles can comfortably be turned back, once drivers realize they've misinterpreted their map, which happens often, since our road is the last of the natural digression of State Highway 69. I love that, beginning this year, people will be refreshing themselves in the shade of our opportunistic, indigenous, fast growing tree. This is the first year I've watered it and seasoned the soil with our home made compost and mulch. Since it doesn't really need more than available precipitation to thrive, I probably won't water it much more, but I composted and mulched it in the hope that this would help the tree resist the yearly onslaught of thrips, and it already seems to be working. It's foliage is thicker than usual, this year, deeper green, each leaf is strong and unmarred. I'd love it if a few more birds would shit a few more of these seeds in our front yard. These trees sprout all over the place. Most people cut them down and douse the stumps with stump killer, so I'm considering stopping along the road during errands and soliciting permission to pull up a couple babies for transplant into our yard. So far, though, every time I've gone out, I've forgotten to throw tools into the back of the truck. Our pear tree, which is beginning to look like it's appreciating the pampering with which I'm finally lavishing it, looks like it's got a baby, too. This is going to be a little trickier to transplant. It needs partial shade, so finding the right spot for it is going to be challenging, seeing as how our partial shade areas are pretty well populated. Once it's going strong, though, we'll have a reliable cross pollinator right in our yard. That would be nice. I'm hoping our apple tree produces some babies this year. A few years ago it did, but my neglect caused all those to die. Maybe by fall, though, with my trumped up care, we'll have some to transplant.
    We watched a rental copy of Venus today. Well, Mom watched about half of it before it induced her nap. I enjoyed it, although, to my surprise, it's not a movie I'm considering owning. Grabbed a couple of interesting quotes from it, though:

• Maurice: "I am about to die and I know nothing about myself."
• Ian: "I love this place. It reminds me of what I wanted to become."

    A few weeks ago I saw a trailer for the movie Away from Her. A tiny, suggestive couple of moments in the trailer so intrigued me that I'm going to try to see this movie in the theater when it arrives here: It was the part featuring "her" developing relationship with a man at the facility to which she chooses to relocate. As I watched "her" wheel this man around and play with him at a community table, I suddenly realized that part of the magic of this relationship, for "her", was that it gave "her" the opportunity to remain a successful caregiver (vs being exclusively a care recipient and/or a caregiver suffering enforced retirement), despite "her" mental aberrations. I was immediately reminded that my mother continues to consider herself involved in mutual caregiving with me and with our beloved cats, even though, on the surface, it appears as though there is only one caregiver in our household, me. I've previiously mentioned this in these journals. I think this is part of what keeps my mother going. It isn't just that feeling needed keeps people locked into life; it's that having opportunities to give appropriate, appreciated care, to someone or something (doesn't have to be a person) other than ourselves and knowing that this care is vital, I think, enhances one's own vitality, regardless of quirks that may plague it. I remember briefly reading, in a couple of online journals, mostly notably The Yellow Wallpapaer and Mondays with Mother, similar notes in passing about residents in facilities caring for one another. Perhaps, no matter what our circumstances, we naturally seek to care for others; other people, other beings, other concerns; and we need others that will accept whatever level of care we are able to give. I'm curious to see how much this is explored in the movie, especially since, at least in the trailer, this aspect of the story seemed almost beside the point and hasn't been mentioned in anything I've read about the movie. I've made a note to remember to look up the Alice Munro story upon which it is based the next time I'm close to the library.
    I do believe it's cooled enough for me to successfully drift into sleep. Must remember to switch to summer bedding tomorrow.
    Later.