The Caregiver’s Tales: A Blog

It looks to be a gray, dreary day this morning, but these days no day with rain is dreary. Rain is a thing to be celebrated. It’s a time of drought. Rain is relief. So, I’m willing to walk about wet if only it comes from rain falling from the sky. I’ll be happy and I’ll go about my day with a smile.

The redo of the guest rooms is down to decorations, putting up pictures. It’s a fun part. To ensure the area gets used while I wait for a guest to show up, I made one of the rooms a music room. To get furniture in the music room, I rotated chairs from the front room to the music room and from the bedroom to the front room. That little dance decluttered my bedroom, which is a nice side benefit.

I am going to pick a bone, and it mostly has to do with any food establishment where I prepay for my meal and before I close the transaction, I’m asked if I want to tip. I usually tip for service and the quality of the meal, but in this case the only service I’ve had so far is the person processing my order. In addition, I have to go get my own drink and find a place to sit. So, I find it difficult to understand who exactly I’m tipping. Granted, in some cases someone will bring me my food, but I’m simply a number on a placard, it’s not usually a long walk, and sometimes the food is to go.

The rain continues to fall, and my little gauge is now up to an inch and a half. When the sun comes up, I think I’m going to take a drive and see how the creeks are running. Although, slow and steady rains after months of dry days usually get soaked up by the parched ground. The gauges on my local river indicate an elevated flow, however, so I’m cautiously optimistic about the creeks.

There’s a gentle rain falling in the Hill Country, although I can only speak with confidence about my little patch of ground. We’ve had a good stretch of recent wet weather although no creeks are flowing from what I can see on drives around the area. It appears most of the water is soaking in which is certainly good for the plant life. I know my vegetation is in a state of green bliss. The rose on the front porch is blooming.

All the trees in our yard have a distinct lean to them. Years of buffeting by the southeasterly winds have bent them all to its will. One of the chinquapins we planted is now so sturdy of trunk that no effort on my part can shake the tree, but there it is, leaning to the soft persistence of a breeze. It’s the same with the burr, its branches stand out like banners in the wind, even when there is no wind.

It’s interesting to note how the life of a house changes as the life of the owners change. Sixteen years ago, our guest rooms were bustling with family and friends, and I actually worked in my upstairs office/library. Then grandkids grew up, friends moved, family moved in, family moved off, illness came, and death came knocking. My living area shrank and I was good with it, because it was manageable.

I took a field trip with a friend yesterday. We tromped through the woods. Talked about plants. Talked about trees. And talked about birds. Entirely satisfying. Then his wife cooked a lovely lunch, and we sat on his porch and looked at more trees and plants and birds. One of the birds was a screech owl which is not something you typically see at lunch. It was sitting in its nest box watching us.