I am sorry I didn't take a
before, and after, picture of a rose bush I cut dead branches off of
for nearly two hours this morning. I can show an after, but too late
to take a before. It was 90 degree, and I was wearing heavy,
thorn-proof clothing, even thick padded gloves. I sprayed my face
with mosquito repellent, and I was wearing a cap. The thorns didn't
prick me much, but the heat was rough. I thank God at 85 years old I
can still do this. I grew up on a farm, and my dad trained we kids
well. It is a joy of my life to work in the soil, plant seeds, and
watch things grow. Part of my heart is still on that farm with my
mom, and dad, and my brothers, and sisters. I married a boy who grew
up on the farm also, but he didn't have the happy life I had, and
swore never to live on a farm again. He kept his word. He worked for
wages on different kinds of jobs. He was a police officer for several
years. Before that he worked for Shell Oil Company doing different
types of jobs. It has been mostly since I retired that I have been
able to work in my yard, and plant a garden and flowers. My yard is
nothing to brag about, but I do enjoy what I've got.
I regret that I missed the luncheon at the Center today, but I can only work in my yard in the mornings because of the heat. I just visited with a friend on the phone who said they missed me and wanted to know why I wasn't there. I told her about my yard work which she was able to relate to. She said there was a nice crowd, and the roast beef dinner was excellent. The days are long when I miss the luncheons. I need lots of fellowship. Living alone is not fun at all. It seems like I live, eat, and sleep television. I'm reading a book, but I have trouble staying interested in it when I miss going to my social events. Sometimes I get a little aggravated with myself when everything I touch seems to produce a mistake. I tell myself that I must be ready to go live in a nursing home. I pray that will never happen. Almost always within minutes the problem that I created seems to just fix its self. Then I ask myself the question, why did I think I was about ready for the nursing home? I'm not crazy after all. Old age has a way of constantly reminding you of it. Wrinkled, and ugly, are not two of my favorite friends. I only see them when I look in the mirror. I walk away quickly. But they will be back, so I must try to address them with make-up, and my magic touch. Keep the camera's off me when I am working in the yard.
God Bless
Myrtle Jean Sharp
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