jmgoyder

wings and things

‘Jake’s Mowing and More’

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The above photo shows how out-of-control the wormwood hedge had become during the last few years of Anthony living in the nursing home. He used to take such pride in trimming that unruly hedge, in pruning the roses, in picking the camellias, in mowing the lawns etc. As for me? I was not the least bit interested, and never have been, in gardening.

But then, a couple of months ago, I discovered Jake. I had previously employed a lawn service – a lovely couple – just to do the lawns (5 acres) and Ming was sometimes unhappy about this because he felt he should be doing it himself. Anyway, the lovely couple moved into a different profession, Ming got full-time work and, as the grass soon leapt up to knee level, I decided I needed help.

So Jake came to the rescue and not only has he controlled the wormwood, he has also made this place look like it once was when Anthony was in control of things.

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Yes – the above photo is of the same lengthy wormwood, now ‘Jaked’!

Anyway, yesterday this whole place was blitzed by Jake and I came home from the nursing home in the late afternoon and felt as if I were entering a park. The nostalgia was acute as I was reminded of that very first day when my parents dropped me off at this farm to be interviewed by Anthony’s rather formidable mother for the job of house-keeper/companion. I was a teenager so I didn’t really notice the garden but do remember vividly the impression that this was a place of beauty and magic.

Three decades later, this wonderful marriage tangled up by Anthony’s diseases and entry into the nursing home, this place, this farm, became a place of despair – mine. So I guess I just kind of gave up any interest in either the house or the garden; I was just too sad.

Fast forward to now and Jake’s lawn service has been a godsend in that this wonderful man, and his son and off-sider, have taken an interest in the place. I know now that I can call on Jake for garden jobs beyond lawn-mowing.

Anyone who can turn something shabby into a work of art is a person worth knowing.

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[Jake: 0487343141]

I have a couple of my new gardening friends coming over tomorrow morning to hopefully give me their advice on vegetable gardening and chooks, so I think I will just pretend that I mowed the lawn myself. They are sure to believe me – hahahaha!

Thank you, Jake.

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Miscellaneous

One of the things I have had to do in all of the recent decluttering is to toss some things into a miscellaneous box to be figured out at a later date. Despite the fact that this box is getting rather full it is good to know that I have one place to put anything that I don’t recognise. I will hold the object out to Dina and say, “Do you know what this is?” (Usually it’s some sort of ancient tool – an artefact from Anthony’s past). If neither of us can figure it out, it goes into the miscellaneous box – perfect. Then it’s over to ‘the Ming’.

I thought it might be quite fitting to write a bit of a miscellaneous post, having discovered that ‘miscellaneous’ is a definite, and quite acceptable, category. So here goes:

Most of the grapes are ripe now and I can just pick them and eat them whenever I go outside. I think it’s just the one vine and the wild birds get to them as fast as I can so there is almost no point picking them. They grow just outside the back door and I’m not sure if Anthony planted them or if they were there before the family came here.

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The figs are nearly finished for the year as the heat is getting the better of them – and the butcher birds (which Gar, Anthony’s mother, used to hate). Last year I just let most of them fall of the tree and frizzle in the sun but this year I have given many bags away to friends, family, the local pub, the restaurant where Ming works (my mother and I went there today for lunch and the fig and coconut muffins were a hit), neighbours etc. I have also eaten quite a few with Ants in the nursing home. I also went to another restaurant and asked if they wanted figs and they said YES and I asked what I would get in exchange, suggesting a lunch voucher and they said yes to that too, though a little less enthusiastically.

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After lunch with my mother today I went in to the nursing home to spend some time with Ants before my 3 – 7pm shift in the dementia house. I had my camera with me so took some photos through his window of the outlook from his room. This garden area – one of many – is where he often ‘sees’ calves and often asks me to go out and check if they are all okay, which of course I always do and the calves are always okay.

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Periodically, I rearrange or change the pictures on his walls. The photo of younger Anthony has pride of place very high on one wall where there happened to be a hook and he rather likes looking up at himself!

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Me: You really like looking at yourself don’t you! Such vanity, Ants.

Ants: Men need to love themselves.

Me: Why?

Ants: In case nobody else does.

Okay I am kind of cheating here as the above conversation happened over a year ago. Ants doesn’t articulate so well anymore but he sure as hell likes looking at the photo and so do I. It kind of pulls us both into the time warp of when we first met.

Then there is the oil painting of cattle that I commissioned from an artist friend years ago; a calendar my mother made of moments/months in our lives (e.g.. Ming recovering from his first spinal surgery); and one of the few photos of Anthony and his mother in her latter years, that I had framed for him once upon a time.

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Then I took a picture of the rose plant I gave Ants not long ago. Everybody has remarked on their blooms and many people, including Anthony, thought they were real until I finally had to own up to the fact that they were VERY expensive fake roses made of silk. Some people are still fooled though, especially when I spray them with rose perfume – haha!

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Well now that all of the ancient rose trees on the driveway of the farm are either dead or dying, the fake rose tree seemed like a good idea. In my defence, I am hopeless at gardening and every time I water something the pump makes the electricity bill soar!

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Just before 3pm, after watching Judging Amy with Ants, I went into his bathroom and quickly changed out of my t-shirt into my new uniform, put my name tag on and explained I was going to work. He always only remembers a bit of this new situation so I have to explain again that I am not going somewhere else but will be working just next door and that I might be able to see him a couple of times during my shift. This reassures him and whenever he gets anxious I just tease and tickle him into his new half-smile and all is well.

This afternoon it was a bit too humid to take many people for a walk outside or through the complex and it wasn’t until I took a teary S for a wheelchair walk that I saw Ants again (just as I saw many of the people in the high-care section as S and I did a lap of the gardens and hallways).

S. Who’s that old chap?

Me: My husband.

S. Not bad-looking!

Me: Keep your hands off him, S!

S. (chuckling and sticking her tongue out at me) All right.

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Miscellaneous….

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Colouring in!

It was my blog friend, Trisha, who introduced me to the idea of Zentangle drawing. I am hopelessly trying to find her exact post but in the meantime here is the link to her blog:

http://trishapearson.wordpress.com/

Anyway, I got a bit into it because (a) I’m not a bit keen on artsy/crafty stuff so I thought it might be good for me; and (b) I needed something to do with Ants in the nursing home, other than watching television.

So, a few weeks ago, I started to do this drawing thing and LOVED IT! Anthony was a bit patronizing though – “Yes, I used to do this when I was 5” (he is so good at sarcasm!), but I ignored his characteristic bumpetyness and drew another circle.

The colouring in is a bit of a buzz, especially now that I have gone to a proper art shop and bought good quality colored pens. I have now done two pictures for Ants which, if you put them on the far wall, and squint your eyes a bit, look a tiny bit like art.

Obviously this colouring in tendency has leaked into my mother’s 80th birthday book so I hope she won’t be too appalled!

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There is nothing like having a peacock on your shoulder!

Over the last few days I have derived an enormous amount of joy and comfort from an unexpected gift – Gutsy9 – the little peachick who mostly lives on my shoulder.

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