Threshing Bee

Last weekend was spent doing spinning demonstrations at a Threshing Bee put on by friends. I got to ride on the Keck pictured above.

It was a beautiful weekend of sitting in the sunshine, visiting with friends old and new, spinning, and people watching. I'll admit, I may have been a slacker in the spinning part, this is all I finished. There was just so much to see. Plus the usual spinning stoppages when explaining to people what I was doing. That is the purpose of demonstrating, after all!

We got our first frost Friday night. I had covered all the veggies, so they survived. I slipped on the frosty grass and did the splits and landed on my hip, but managed to save the six dozen eggs (the girls have been busy) I was carrying to bring to the Bee.

Mom spent the weekend in the Alzheimer's Unit at a nursing home, which is the only way I get any respite (about one weekend a month). The nurses said she kept them in stitches all weekend. My sister picked her up and brought her to my house, and she was still in a goofy mood, singing and dancing and making us laugh when she got home. I am so lucky that she is usually in a happy mood!

Lucky

I was talking on the phone with a friend the other day slightly after sunset. Our conversation soon became puncuated with "oh!" and "cute!" On the upper pasture,(pictured above) I could see a herd of deer, 7-8? including some youngsters. The young ones were running, twisting and jumping, obviously for the sheer joy of it rather than running away from anything. I was describing this to my friend, and she asked where I was that I could see this. Standing at my kitchen window. The next morning, again looking out that window, the upper pasture was covered with wild turkeys. Times like that I realize how lucky I am to live here.

Dawn, the next edition of the Art of Alzheimer's series

This is the one that started it all. I guess she decided that is where it belongs, since it matches. I love these little signs that she is still there, no matter how deep down inside it is. We live for those little glimmers.