The Caregiver’s Tales: A Blog
The Caregiver's Tales (A Blog)
Power washed the porches yesterday. That was a loud, noisy mess. But now everything looks spic and span. The next step is to get on a ladder and clean off the remnants of the old swallow nests. Of course I’m not supposed to do ladders. So, maybe I should try the high-pressure nozzle on the washer. Or maybe I can use a brush on an extension. Or maybe doing nothing is a good option. I like having choices.
I’m obsessed with knick-knacks these days. I’m at a stage in my life where I’m taking stock, so it’s one of the things I’m counting. We have lots of them. Little things that sit on shelves, counters, tabletops and dressers. Ornamentals. Dust catchers. Mementos. Whatever you want to call them we have them. Sometimes they even masquerade as collectibles, a thing of value.
The hot summer mornings are upon us. Luckily, they didn’t come until August. Of course, they might now stay through October, but that’s a chance I’m willing to take as if I had anything to do with it. I suppose it’s worth noting that I’m back in the Hill Country where the humidity is a tad bit higher than it was on top of the Marathon uplift. Being nearly a mile high helps to keep things cool at night.
On my recent trip to Marathon we stopped at Seminole Canyon State Park and Historic Site. The Canyon and its caves show evidence that people lived there are far back as 12,000 years ago, with rock art dating back 7,000 years. That’s a long time for a picture to hang around on the wall of a cave, but I’m glad it did, because I had the pleasure of knowing an artist, Bill Worrell, who was mightily influenced by those drawings. I have some of his work in my home as do many of my friends.
On our way to Marathon last week, we went via Del Rio. It wasn’t a straight-line trip, but there were sights to see, and we wanted to see them. First up was the Devil’s Sinkhole in Rocksprings followed by lunch in Del Rio. We didn’t actually see the sinkhole. But we picked up brochures at the visitor’s center. In Del Rio we ate lunch and checked out Lake Amistad. It’s big and low and needs a good flood to fill back up. Maybe the super El Niño will bring one. I’m sure the locals would be happy.
Just spent four days in Marathon Texas listening to music, making music, and watching stars (the celestial sort). It was possible to walk everywhere I needed to go. Although we rode on occasion for speed and convenience. The weather cooperated. Hot days were followed by cool nights. Desert weather, the sort I’ve come to love over the years from my youth in the desert around 29 Palms California to the Big Bend that I discovered late in life.
If you don’t have a songwriter, you should get one. Preferable one whose music speaks to you in magical ways that only you can divine. One whose songs you want to sing when they’re sung to you. We saw a show last night in Marathon with a songwriter whose songs spoke to his audience. He sang; they sang. It was fun. And it made for a lovely evening.
One of these days I might spend some time cataloging the spiders who call my place home. I saw a new one this morning on the screen door. One I’d never seen before, a crab spider, of the genus Xysticus. According to the Wikipedia page about them, they’re ambush hunters, which means no webs to grab me in the dark. I have no idea what he thought he might find on the screen, but I’m guessing he was going somewhere else and merely stopped to rest.