October 1, 2013
You can only drink so much tea
Been sick since last Thursday, think I am on the improving side now thanks to the magic of nebulizers and antibiotics. Everyone is telling me how stunning the weather is, just perfect, perfect end of September, first of October weather. The husband positively sang rhapsodic about it as he left the house. I recall sunlight as I staggered, coughing and wheezing, to the doctor's yesterday. Outside the window it does indeed look nice. You can only drink so much tea, really, and thumb through old magazines, so I thought I would take a stroll around the house. Maybe look for the old boards and brick in the back and make a nice throw together bench for the pumpkins. out past the side where signs of the daughter's visit remain - the cloths from where she washed and waxed her car (unamused by my croaky song of "wax on, wax off" - I really know far too many inane songs from commercials and old television shows). Past the growing moss...very pretty although I am sure some people would be tossing bleach all over it to clean it up. We are not those people. The yard is in a complete lean towards Autumn, lovely, since it was kind of a forgetaboutit summer - too much interior house work, too many outdoor icks like blistering heat and an endless swarm of the most maddening crickets. The late day light is lovely. Into the back where I have old bricks, wooden boards, various yard stuffs...or I had. Now the ivy has claimed it all. I am not about to root through all this - that is what cold winter winds are for - to kill it off so we can find all the junk we bloody forgot about in the stupid yard. Meanwhile it feels like a bug is in my hair. I feel very dizzy. That's the nebulizer and congestion. It is weirdly hot out here. The house where my nice chair is seems far away. What did I come out here for? The yard is full of noise, birds dashing out of thick branches startle me, there is the sound of much movement (who lives in this wee hole? Too big for bees or crickets or whatever, it must be one of our zillion chipmunks). It is so pretty. I feel so out of it. Is this what it is like to be really old and slightly dotty? Or someone smoking plants instead of taking photos of them? I swear, hydrangeas never fail to deliver even as their flowers fade. I swear there is something in my hair. I am exhausted. What did I want? Oh, yes. Something to put the pumpkins on. Oh, the heck with that. I need some Earl Gray.