I ❤️ Bronwyn

France continues to march forward in grandeur nationale, bearing the baguette as its symbol of collective pride. Last Thursday marked a special occasion for that leavened nationalism. It was the feast day of Saint Honoré, the patron saint of bakers. To celebrate, the national postal service released a scratch and sniff stamp that smells like a baguette.

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It’s been chilly in the mornings for the past few days. I lit a fire to warm up the house yesterday morning before joining my friends to walk our doggers. Then we came back home, and I got busy with weed whacking more of the cover in the backyard. Sheba went to bed.

After getting a good start on mowing the cover in the backyard, the battery for my weed whacker ran out, so I plugged it in to recharge it. Instead of the usual flashing green light that tells me the battery is charging, I got a flashing red light. I tried to get it going half a dozen times, but every time, I got the red alert light. 

I searched the Net for a manual for the battery and failed to find an answer, so I ordered a new battery ($65). Then I decided to attach the recharger again and let it flash red, hoping it might recharge anyway, before I went outside to work. And suddenly, the green light was working. Sigh. Luckily, I went directly to Amazon and was able to cancel the order. Phew.

Bronwyn said she’d be here at 12:30, which I took to mean sometime before 2:00. I could hardly wait to see her and get her help with cleaning up the 4 remaining beds needing refreshing and weeding. It was a stunning day, and the 16° temperature helped me stay comfortable as I worked in the bright hot sunshine and awaited Bronwyn.

She arrived just before 2:00 and I hugged her. I am smitten with her. She is just the lovliest person, and she’s a gardening encyclopedia. When a neighbour came by and asked about her, he asked her about his Climbing Rose, and she gave him a very detailed answer.

Perhaps the moment of my greatest joy was asking Bronwyn about some low growing wildflowers I found blooming on the edge of the edible garden. I showed them to her, thinking that they might be Violets, and sure enough, they were, so now they have pride of place in one of my favourite beds.

I feel so, so good about Bronwyn’s work. She’s fertilizing everything and moving quite a few plants that have long needed replanting. With her help, Pinecone Park is becoming more and more beautiful and healthy. Gaps are being filled, and that makes for a big improvement in the look of the beds.

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“Hire someone,” she’d say. And she’s been saying it for years, but it took getting a nasty sciatica attack to get me to do it. She is my dear friend Beth, and Bronwyn is who I hired, and we had the best afternoon together. I really like her, and she appreciated the written list of things I wanted done. She’s pure joy to be with, but I stay out of her way while she works.

I must say, I don’t feel comfortable in the house while she works. I don’t feel comfortable having someone work for me. I feel like a slave owner, but only when I am in the house. When I am outside working with her, it’s fabulous. While she worked a bed, I watered it and we had a lovely chat. But my 4:00, I needed to rest and that’s when I felt anxious.

Doing my walkabout last night brought tears to my eyes. Everything looks magnificent. I can hardly wait to have Kris and Nancy over, and the boys. She’s going to buy some more plants for me and do more work in about two weeks. I’m excited about what we’re going to be doing. I may need to change the name of Pinecone Park. I’m thinking Gethsemane.

Amidst all my joy comes the realization of my decline. For the first time, I fear that my days of speaking sentences may soon be over. It is becoming brutally difficult to talk. Thankfully, I know how to adapt. I will get a computer and expensive software (free) from CAYA. But it scares me what may be coming. I’m not being fatalistic either; I’m being realistic. Over the years my voice has slowly declined, about 2.5 years ago, my ability to speak has declined rather quickly. Last October, things got worse, and now I’ve taken another step down.

Both Steve and Dwight call to talk. They know I will speak a little, depending on how things are, so I know they will always stay in touch on FaceTime so I have exchange with my closest chosen family. Life can go on. Dr. Shoja noticed and suggested we meet more frequently, but I want to keep our once-a-month pattern. The appointments are 1 hour long, and I am the one who does most of the talking usually, and now it is physically painful to do that. All this is one reason I have been spending money on the garden. It is where I will be spending all my time.

It rained last night and it's pouring this morning. Hurrah!

Red Sprite Lightning photographed over Oklahoma.