Of gardens and storms

Squash blossom

Things have been going along well here.  Both of us have been enjoying the overcast weather.  Yesterday, we dug potatoes from the garden, harvesting a 5 gallon bucket full. We talked about what to make with so many potatoes: soup, home fries,  mashers--all things that we rarely eat. I suspect that friends will be getting baskets of potatoes for a while.

The garden is verdant with more vegetables ripening.  The flower beds are filled with color.  The smell of gardenias, roses and the Confederate jessamine is heady.  I took some photos this morning of the gardens.

A profusion of gardenias blooming

Blueberries on the bush

Many tomato plants staked

One of several flower beds

The deck with roses and hibiscus

Flower bed with coleus, yarrow, cleomes,  and many other plants

Walkway to the front door

Basil rows

Confederate jessamine on an old oak tree. 

We went to my mother-in-laws birthday party on Monday.  She is 90 years old.  The care givers had gotten balloons, cupcakes, and flowers.  We brought a couple of salads and pizza.  The neighbors came over, and everyone, including the MIL, had a nice time.

She enjoyed all her gifts and made a lot of funny quips.  Her humor hasn't left her, even though she often gets confused.  For her birthday, she seemed fairly sharp which was good.  By 2 PM, she was exhausted and had to be helped to bed for a nap.

Today, I'm visiting my father-in-law.  He is holding his own but can no longer walk much so he moves along with the wheel chair.  His mind is still sharp.  I think that he is resigned to being at the nursing home now.  We see him three to four days a week.  I think that he really only wants to see his wife who often doesn't know who he is.  She thinks that I am her husband at times which either makes my wife laugh or cry depending on her mood.

More thunderstorms are expected this afternoon.  I think that I'll go sit on the boat later and watch the storms come in.  There is nothing like a southern thunderstorm.

"During the summer it rains almost every afternoon........ From my gallery, around three o’clock, you could watch the clouds build as high and dark as mountains......, then within minutes the barometer would drop, the air would suddenly turn cool and smell like ozone and gunmetal and fish spawning, the wind would begin to blow out of the south and straighten the moss on the dead cypress trees in the marsh, bend the cattails......, and swell and ruffle the pecan trees in my front yard; then a sheet of grey rain would move out of the marsh…and ring as loud on my gallery as marbles bouncing on corrugated tin.” ~James Lee Burke