I don’t suppose, I will ever  grasp the concept of time.  I know it is summer, for the heat though dreadful, does at least, turn the tomatoes, a lovely crimson.  I see the very old crepe myrtle in all its’ glory, now and the community of little wild creatures, that abide on Bonnet Street, are taking cool sips of water from the birdbaths regularly.   . . as they should, for how  nonchalantly the sun moves  across rhe sky now.  A shower of rain is cause to celebrate, these days!   I have always called this time summer, but now . .  . it is the time after Mama died.   

Life does seem ro divide itself in segments naturally. Unlike a calendar, there is no precise way to measure the duration of these fragments.  Just the other day, I answered someone with “That was before Brant was born,”   and I still say. “After Farm Life” quite often. 

This particular “segment” remains especially somber-and odd.

I am so very disappointed with ” all the business of death”.   . .and at such a time of distraught, for everyone.  I dread the disassembly of my parents; home.  We have barely started this heart wrenching task. I am hoping that the thought of it is worse than than the act itself. 

I am still coming to terms with this new “territory”. , , in life.   This world is just so wide and vast, I remind myself.  

Order has almost been restored at the rabbitpatch.  I have at least completed the “no plastic” mission.  Of course, this will require my on going attention and I must put thought in to what comes in this little cottage. 

 Most of my flowers have survived my neglect and the cruel heat of midsummer.  The “confederate rose” that I rooted last year survives and thankfully so, as this is a hard to find plant. The stalwart phlox blooms.  The roses are complaining.  The wild jasmine lives whole heartedly  and thrives  . . .and seems  to grow joyfully.

I am practicing some of the food preservation skills. that I studied in the last six months.  I have made sauerkraut twice and am fermenting tomatoes now.  They smell amazing and if it ever gets cool enough, we will have an Italian dinner.   I tried my hand at yogurt and that was especially good with fresh strawberries.   .. but lo and behold!  Yesterday, I made crumpets!  I am using a sourdough starter, which took me weeks to make.  I have a lot of practice ahead to accomplish my lofty notions,  but will  not attempt too much just yet in my  little kitchen in July . . for fear of wilting with a wooden spoon in my hand. 

My computer gave out the last month that I was with Mama.  That changed things,  as I could not study new medications, nor understand what certain symptoms meant. I  felt unsettled not knowing things and fearful that I would miss something crucial. . . and oh how I love knowledge!   

After a few days.  I realised that I was praying more.  I was now, relying on my faith.   I didn’t have to know everything.   .nor understand every detail.  This was of great comfort to me.  It was also a very significant course, and I considered it deeply..  I simply had no other options, or else I am certain that I would have remained as I had been. . .  “leaning on my own understanding”. 

I  must be as stubborn, as my children declare that I am. for it took me getting backed into a dim corner,  to  resign from  my former habit and to accept the liberty that awaited.   . .and I am determined to act like the wild jasmine-to live whole heartedly . . .and thrive . . and grow joyfully.