Above
Sisyrinchium angustifolium, Narrowleaf Blue-eyed Grass
Joni
Mitchell’s Singing My Song
Into the
wind I turn
As it washes
past the years of
youth,
difference, and distance
You
disappeared right in front of me
Sifting
through the hourglass of time
Until one
day we were old
Zero
drama, I promised
Just
conversations of yards
Gardens,
vegetables and chickens
And when
nothing was left to be said,
there was
always the weather
and the
weather always was.
So where
do we go from here
When you
are stardust and I am alone
And
chances are gone forever more.
I cried
when I heard that old song last night-
As my reality embraced me
And my illusions sunk rock-bottom.
Clematis Viorna, Leather Flower
'Winterthur' Viburnum flower buds
Maple tree sapling growing out from under a brick.
I don't have the type of Leather Flower ID anymore.
The large flowered one is Clematis Hagley Hybrid
Sculptured Pine Borer - Chalcophora virginiensis
Clematis 'Venosa'
Unripe Blueberries
Debi
(Deborah)
My Younger Sister
She left us on April 28
We seldom kept in touch when we
were young. A baby quilt was made for
her first child, but there was never an acknowledgment of receiving it. When they returned from Guam to
Nevada to stay for a a few weeks before Charlie found housing in Louisiana, their child had the quilt, so that was that.
What I always remembered from
that experience was a very active young child crawling everywhere, getting into
all the lower drawers in my kitchen, and months later finding the spatulas under the living room furniture.
The first and last time I
really talked to her about life was years ago when my husband and I drove down
there by car for Thanksgiving, and after hours of driving around Huston searching
for an affordable hotel with a bed my back could handle, we ended up back at
their home empty handed.
She had me lay on their bed and
asked me how it was. It felt wonderful. We laid there for what seemed like hours
talking about life and then we joined the husbands. Debi and Charlie moved to the small bedroom
and gave us their bedroom for our stay. She had this wonderful set of
cookbooks, and each time she cooked us dinner it was an unforgettably delicious experience.
It was the last time we ever
talked about the things that lay beneath the surface of our lives. After that, we talked about her vegetable garden, Charlie often mowing down her flower beds, planting the fence line with
native shrubs and vines, the neighbors collection of cats who partly lived in Debi's yard for the food handouts, her chicken coop filled with chickens she had raised herself, and the
weather. That private connection we shared never happened again.
I was never in her world much. I had a more complicated life
with my youngest sister Sonya than I ever did with Debi, mainly because I would
always see Sonya when I visited mom and dad.
Debi was a few years younger
than me, so our lives never connected in that sisterly way one sees in movies. What stood out the most in her preschool
years at home, was seeing her grabbing that toy football, tucking it against
her side defensively, and barreling ahead right off the high porch edge and tumbling
across the lawn. She was a stubborn toughie
back then, and I think that attitude followed through most of her life.
She called me Monday, Tuesday,
and Wednesday the week before she died.
It was late night after her husband was asleep, and I told her she could
talk as long as she wished. She called
me her angel, a sentiment that surprised and warmed me.
She talked about the three of
us, the three sisters, and then when she added our brother into the mix, it was
‘three sisters and a drunken brother’.
She sounded happy, so I just listened, as she rambled on all over the
place about life, but she repeated ‘three sisters and a drunken brother’ so
many times, it is etched into my mind forever.
Her celebration of life will have
a butterfly release, Beatles music and Lumpia, one of the dishes she was well
known for. I know nothing about a love
for Beatles music or food dishes she was celebrated for, but I do remember the
Softball playing years and the bad knees.
I guess that counts for something.
Miss you so much.
It's been raining for days, with another week left to go. I did receive my Saatva mattress two days ago and my body is beginning to slowly recover from the torture of owning the mattress from Hell. I haven't taken photos lately, so not much was presented here. I find myself with little to say. Much love and joy.
Yvonne
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