An older and wiser friend reminds me from time to time that life is like a roll of toilet paper–the closer to the end, the faster it goes.
I’ve been thinking lately that you know you are middle-aged when. . .
. . . you prefer hiking uphill to downhill because your knees kill you going downhill.
. . . you choose not to watch a movie because you don’t want to shuffle 3 remote controls and don’t understand why it is even necessary.
. . . your pastor, doctor and the president are all younger than you. (Not so with the current president, in case you were wondering.)
. . . you go to your class reunion and can’t find your friends among all the old people.
. . . you know the words to the orchestrated songs in the grocery store.
. . . you notice young people driving too fast instead of old people driving too slow.
. . . you recognize the word “update” as a euphemism for “complications and trouble ahead”.
Do you have anything to add to this list?
*Rapid Change is available for sale here.
This type of iris is my favorite. The colors are never quite as good in the photos as real life, but sometimes I have done okay with oil paint in capturing these. (It’s been a few years since I painted any.)
See that shadow through the lace? That is a Peeping Sam(son).
Making mosaic items –stepping stones, a few table-tops, a bowling ball, drinking fountain and light pole – is a striking change from drawing in pencil. These were done with tiles I found at garage sales and a few left-over pieces from when I was slamming these out by the dozens. The big box stores don’t carry bright colors or pretty designs any more, so I think the era of easy tile buying has ended.
We planted tomatoes and stepping stones. Trail Guy built this fortress against deer, gophers and birds. Guess we’ll still have to deal with the bugs.
The herb garden is my place of refuge. The various fence pieces are all salvaged. It won’t keep out the deer, but it will slow them down a bit. It looks a little hokey but I get satisfaction from using what we have available (or “upcycling” in the current vernacular).
And sometimes I just sit, read, knit, pick the catkins out of my hair from the mulberry branches overhead, and smell the lilacs.
