The Caregiver’s Tales: A Blog

The weather feels uneasy these days as though it is having a hard time making up its mind about what it wants to do. Should it rain? Should it shine? What? How about a strong wind? Maybe a good calm? We’re having hot days, but there’s so much moisture in the ground it hardly feels like summer at all, and its nearly July. By now we should be baking. Instead, we have a sauna.

Father’s Day. My day. Me as a member of the father class. I like being a father. I mostly liked coaching. I loved cheering. And I read to them every night. I was a good diaper changer, I knew how to feed, and I could pat babies to sleep. I could even handle the kids while my wife got alone time. I was hit or miss as a disciplinarian, and I could have used a touch more calmness.

A friend recently asked what I had planned for the week, and I said, “Nothing.” Except I have one or two things planned, but they’re things to which I’ve been invited. Planning implies something I’ve set up, and the legit answer these days, more often than not, is nothing. I’ve spent most of my life having to be somewhere and do something, mostly going to and from work, so the idea of meandering a through a day, a week, and even a month, is appealing.

I’ve noticed in my various feeds lots of stories about the Algerian soccer team in Kansas, and the Scottish team in Boston. It seems the World Cup has come to the Americas. All the clips are good, and they have made me feel good, because I like those sorts of clips, especially the ones with the Scots singing. But it occurred to me that given the way algorithms work they might be singling me out, because, well -- algorithms.

Another new plant has come to the garden, Ironweed, again courtesy of my arborist son. As with the bluebells, this is their second year but first to bloom. Maybe it was all the rain. Whatever the cause, the flowers are out and they look great. Now we hope they propagate. It’s not always as easy as one might think. Nature is relatively capricious that way. For instance, the false mallows he planted long ago, are still just two.

Went to a big box bookstore yesterday, Barnes & Noble. Got washed in a wave of nostalgia. Once upon a time I worked for a publisher and sold books for a living. Every year at the big industry trade show we’d collect reading copies of new books. Some years I’d bring home boxes of them. Yesterday, I felt like I was back at that trade show. I wanted one of every book on display. I restrained myself, however, budget limitations, and bought the book I wanted plus one other.

Yesterday was a day of riding around. Went to a lake, went to a river, sat and watched the sky. There was a big rain. I reported three inches at my house, but it was closer to four. When those rains come, the rivers and creeks really run. I like to go see them. Yesterday it was the Blanco River and Miller Creek. They were both running hot and muddy. It was particularly nice to see water in the creek, because lately it was a creek in name only.

It’s been a wet June. Last night I woke up to thunder and lightning and found the rain gauges nearly full this morning, registering close to three inches. That’s a hard rain. My freshly mown grass likes it as do the plants. The Barbados cherry is now bearing fruit. I refer to it in the singular, but I’m fairly certain there are now seven or eight plants clumped together. Too bad the cherries are only slightly larger than pinheads.