It looks like it going to be a week of Indian Summer warm days. I'll be trying to remember the words to "October's bright blue weather" a poem that Lucy Ladwig made us memorize in 5th grade. Fall colors are peaking with a few stand-out-alone Maples shouting, " look at me, look at me." I never thought I'd be describing a tree as drop-dead gorgeous.
Work days are slowing down. That means after a short lunch, I snooze is a lawn chair in the garage for 15 minutes with the cat on my lap. With dusk just after 6:30 pm, I can't claim 12 hour days as an excuse for not blogging. The nap is necessary. One, I'm low-energy and need a recharge to be able to dig up the last 10 feet of spuds. The other, like yesterday, I anticipate a customer will pull up in the middle of things-I've got a paint brush full of "pineapple citrus" halfway through the front face of the garage- Armin drives up wanting onions and somebody to listen to his spiel about the chiseling local hardware store. Then another guy drives up in an 88 Oldsmobile and wants to talk about his potato harvest. He also wants 100 pounds of Kennebecs. Turns out he's been dumping wood ashes in the garden over winter and it reduced his harvest. Not good for potatoes.
My word processing skills are diminished. Typos abound. Thank God for spell checks.Ten days ago my 30 year old son went to emergency with a fever and other associated symptoms. At the hospital it was determined he has a aneurysm of the aortic valve and an enlarged heart. Mid-week last he underwent open heart surgery. From 7 am until 3 pm the doctors replaced the valve and did repairs in three incisions. I spoke with him briefly on Saturday. His voice was till hoarse from all the tubes down his throat. He's at his mother's house recuperating.
He might as well be light years away in distance, because he's been overwhelmed with phone calls, pre-operative visits and now wants to just be able to heal. It's a helpless feeling on my part.
Twitler: Pride Cometh Before McFaul
4 hours ago