The Caregiver’s Tales: A Blog

Big Bend drives me to silence. All I want to do, when I’m there, is to look at the landscapes as they stretch out around me and confront the enormity of time and think about all the lifetimes it took to get from there to here. After all, it’s a land that once sat at the bottom of a sea that first formed 100 million years ago, then became pocked marked with raging volcanoes 40 million years ago, then went quiet to let wind, rivers, and rain carve the landscape into its present form, one grain of sand at a time. It’s a lovely, slow-moving panorama.

My Mexican Plum is full of blooms, for the first time ever. We had a few single blooms last year. But this year is the real deal. There are flowers everywhere, from bottom to top. I’d like to think it’s happening because I took out one of the Turks Caps to give the tree more breathing room, but it’s more likely the tree has finally matured into it fruit bearing years.

To set the stage, I wear gloves when I work. Depending on the type of work I have three pair. Yesterday, to mow, I wore my thinnest, they come almost to my elbow, covering my forearm from sun and brush. At one point, something called me inside. While there, I saw I had a text. I removed one glove, answered the text, did something else in the house and something else again. When finished, I went to put on my glove. It was gone.

I took a small break yesterday and went to play golf with my brother. I shot 91 on a 5,000-yard course, which seems a good score for my age. The key takeaway for me is that I felt as though I hit a lot of good shots, putted well, and managed to recover my form after a string of bad holes. A good day, all in all. Breaking ninety was within my grasp.

I’ve sunk into my medieval self, the world of two sleeps, as described by historian Roger Ekrich in his book At Day’s Close: Night in Times Past. I wake at three, bounce around a bit and go back to sleep. I have to be careful though, sometimes I let the waking get away from me, and simply stay up. But usually, sleep overtakes me and I succumb. Of course, it helps I’m no longer driven by the clock and work. I can sleep until I wake, which is why I’ve mostly given up on my alarm.

My upright rosemary is blooming. That’s a first. I guess it needed time to acclimate to its new home. The are also green buds on three small trees, the persimmon, the Mexican plum, and the sandpaper tree. And the mealy sage a friend gave me last year is coming up from their roots. Lots of growth activity in the gardens and the grounds. At some point next month, I’ll have to get busy myself. But I have a trip coming up, and my resources are dedicated.

It’s odd the things that bring me pleasure these days. Yesterday I completed the restoration of the three lights that adorn our dog run walls. They were bought in the rush of pleasure that comes with decorating a new home. They fell victim to my late wife’s long disease and grief. Bulbs died and broke and the lights went dim. The will to repair was broken as well. For years, I mostly sighed when I looked at the dark lights.

It seems spring is coming to the garden. It might be a tad early. It’s only February. But the bulbs are popping up, the Coral Sage is sprouting, and the grass is green. If I had been a more diligent steward I might have noted these changes through the years, then I could speak with confidence of the early or lateness of things. Unfortunately, all I can do now is speak in generalities.