The Caregiver’s Tales: A Blog

Walked into the carport yesterday to get my gloves and came face to face with three wren chicks learning to fly. One fluttered off to get stuck between the shelves and the carport wall. The remaining two just sat and looked at me. The mother or the father, I don’t know which headed back to the nest. In deference to the birds and the training session, I backed up, foreswore the gloves, and moved on.

This morning they were out fluttering between the fence and the south porch. I’m assuming that’s the same set of birds, of course. Regardless, the fence is a good place to be because I keep the grass high which makes cat travel hard. Plus, there’s a grapevine in which they can shelter. I also opened the sliding door in the back wall of the carport to give the little garage birds better access to freedom. I’m doing what I can to help the kids get a start in life, because I like the little birds and their flipped-up tails.

It’s a lovely morning in the neighborhood. The sun is out, the birds are singing, there’s dew on the grass. The air is cool and kind. I’m in a good mood. I have a slightly sore finger from the prick of Mesquite thorn. I started trimming a tree yesterday and got careless. But overall, I feel fine, and I’m doing the best I can to maintain that spirit.

When we first moved into our new home we were gifted with spineless cactus. We put one on either side of the entrance to our driveway. Eventually, they outgrew the space. I dug them up and moved them to the backlots along the south fence. There they are thriving. To say they are comfortable in their space is an understatement. They are a great windbreak and deer deterrent.

I’m binging on books, the paper kind I can hold in my hand as I try to get the light just so as I read. I want to break my fixation with my phone and digital media. I want to work at getting information into my brain rather than having it pushed at me like an IV. I want to read the back cover, see a paragraph about the author, a summary of the text, and assess its worthiness for consumption. I want to sit when I’m done and consider what I just read.

The world is the world, and these days almost everyone shops online. It’s easy. It’s convenient. It’s mostly cheaper. And there are infinitely more choices. I do it as well. But generally speaking, I like going to stores, picking up the goods, looking at them, getting a feel for the product, and talking to the clerks. Plus, it’s nice to have someone thank you when you check out. Of course, there’s a cost.

A storm blew in last night and I slept right through it. That’s a good sign, I think. Plus, nearly an inch of rain fell, and I know that’s a good sign. Of course, I’m not real sure what to do with all those good signs. I guess just be happy, and seems relatively easy, which is another good sign. So, off we go, happy to have rain and good night’s sleep.

I had a thought. Some people I know run when I say that, but I have them, thoughts, and I can’t stop. Here it is. The thought. I’m spending too much time thinking and talking about my age. Age isn’t a thing. It’s a data point. Granted, I’m approaching eighty and only about three percent of the US is there, but it’s still just a number, and I need to remember that. I always did before and I need to start doing it again.

On Thursday the golf gods smiled. Chips rolled close. Putts dropped in. I shot a low score for an old man. On Sunday, the gods were attending other business. Ancient swing thoughts sprang forth. Balls went hither and yon or nowhere at all. We took shelter from lightning. The round progressed to its inglorious end. My humility was strengthened. I will try again.