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Jun. 16th, 2020 10:24 pmToday I am wearing socks featuring the Starry Night by Van Gogh.
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My mother would have been 84 today. I wonder what it would have been like to grow up with my mother in my life. Hmm.
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Hot, sticky day today. I do not like to be hot and sticky. I helped FIL stake and tie his tomato plants (and he has set them up behind some pretty challenging wooden frameworks already, inside the greenhouse) and though it didn't really take very long, I was literally dripping with sweat afterwards.
FIL has done a very good job with the soil in the greenhouse, various cold frames and bits of dug ground, and (probably) the fruit cage; nonetheless, going into the veg-growing part of the garden fills me with soul-crushing despair. He has, you see, absolutely no aesthetic sensibilities whatsoever, plus an unwillingness to throw away anything that might conceivably be useful, PLUS unwillingness to take the time to make things properly, so that everything is wonky and crap. It looks like a junkyard up there.
I have a fair bit of sympathy with FIL, who is forced to recognise that he just cannot do things any more, which must be very distressing to realise. He cannot cope with the gigantic fruit cage, which is currently full of raspberry bushes, currant bushes, and weeds. He's struggling to cope with the gardening, even though it is but a fraction of what he used to do—but then, he's 95. And still overambitious. At least he must have a freezer full of last year's fruit and veg.
I also get very frustrated with his complete inability to answer a question. He won't do it. He makes statements which in no way address the question I have asked, or which justify a decision he made—which is irrelevant, since I don't care where something came from or what it cost. it's exhausting. I asked him about the arrangement of his tomato stakes so many times and in the end gave up and suggested (very firmly) an arrangement I thought was sensible. When searching for something on TV for him to watch, I have taken to either putting in a DVD of my own choice, or giving him a series of either/or decisions. Drama or a nature programme? Monarch of the Glen or a detective show? It's like having a toddler. Just as much unnecessary stubbornness. Although I *think* a toddler would be willing to wear long trousers when it's cold outside.
But, he's grateful for the help, and yesterday evening came back down after he'd gone upstairs to bed, just to tell me what a splendid chap my Beast is. Which is true. Beast has infinite patience, way more than I have, and he is naturally as kind as I try to be. It's very helpful to have a Good Example about the house.
*
My mother would have been 84 today. I wonder what it would have been like to grow up with my mother in my life. Hmm.
*
Hot, sticky day today. I do not like to be hot and sticky. I helped FIL stake and tie his tomato plants (and he has set them up behind some pretty challenging wooden frameworks already, inside the greenhouse) and though it didn't really take very long, I was literally dripping with sweat afterwards.
FIL has done a very good job with the soil in the greenhouse, various cold frames and bits of dug ground, and (probably) the fruit cage; nonetheless, going into the veg-growing part of the garden fills me with soul-crushing despair. He has, you see, absolutely no aesthetic sensibilities whatsoever, plus an unwillingness to throw away anything that might conceivably be useful, PLUS unwillingness to take the time to make things properly, so that everything is wonky and crap. It looks like a junkyard up there.
I have a fair bit of sympathy with FIL, who is forced to recognise that he just cannot do things any more, which must be very distressing to realise. He cannot cope with the gigantic fruit cage, which is currently full of raspberry bushes, currant bushes, and weeds. He's struggling to cope with the gardening, even though it is but a fraction of what he used to do—but then, he's 95. And still overambitious. At least he must have a freezer full of last year's fruit and veg.
I also get very frustrated with his complete inability to answer a question. He won't do it. He makes statements which in no way address the question I have asked, or which justify a decision he made—which is irrelevant, since I don't care where something came from or what it cost. it's exhausting. I asked him about the arrangement of his tomato stakes so many times and in the end gave up and suggested (very firmly) an arrangement I thought was sensible. When searching for something on TV for him to watch, I have taken to either putting in a DVD of my own choice, or giving him a series of either/or decisions. Drama or a nature programme? Monarch of the Glen or a detective show? It's like having a toddler. Just as much unnecessary stubbornness. Although I *think* a toddler would be willing to wear long trousers when it's cold outside.
But, he's grateful for the help, and yesterday evening came back down after he'd gone upstairs to bed, just to tell me what a splendid chap my Beast is. Which is true. Beast has infinite patience, way more than I have, and he is naturally as kind as I try to be. It's very helpful to have a Good Example about the house.
