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And so it goes …

When I told Steve that the plant next to him was lavender eventually his right hand swept out in a languid fashion so that his fingers could sweep through the leaves. He then brought his fingers to his face to smell. It took just a little more time than before for thought to become action. I was able to wait in that space to see things evolve … I don’t always have that patience … but that particular day I did and so as I look out on the porch now and see the lavender swaying in the evening breeze it brings a smile to me. I did remind him that lavender is edible but that went in one ear and out the other.

Earlier today, as Steve sliced some mushrooms, I asked, “Has anyone ever called you stubborn?” He replied, “Yes.” I had invited him to cut some mushrooms for a creamy mushroom soup. I wanted to make life easier for him and said he only needed to cut the mushroom caps in half since I intended to use an immersion blender at the last stage but … for all the years I’ve known him as he’s cooked with mushrooms he slices them very thin. It has become rote. And so that it was he did today. It took time and effort and I was reminded of a statement from a young exercise buddy who said what he most admired about Steve was that he made the effort. He wouldn’t necessarily be successful but he made the effort and not everyone did that.

Since he’s returned home from most recent hospitalization … and it was a doozy … we’ve managed to binge watch all sorts of programming that other people may have already seen like, uhm, Poldark. I hope we make it to The Gilded Age. We watched the trailer for Dune 3 today and he said he wanted to see that which means we’ll have to rewatch Dune 1 and 2 and I don’t have a problem with that. I shared some things from my workplace about big upcoming events in 2027 and when asked would he like to see some of these events he said yes. Gives us plenty of time for planning. As much as any of us have control over time.

There are many sights I appreciate with Steve making it home once more to heal. Most involve him out of the bed sitting with family for lunch, playing chess with a friend, exercising even when it hurts, and bearing with me when I force, I mean invite, him to sit on the porch with me. I’ve learned to include incentives like mango lassi, chocolate ice cream and so forth. Still on soft foods for the present so I did have to rescue a chocolate bar from his grasp when he thought I wasn’t looking.

I am learning a lot on this journey with Steve. Though somehow I was recently called a legendary patient advocate … all I did was give voice to the fact to what is known that some folks heal better in home environment … I do remind myself that I am not perfect, I am not always patient and it is alright to ask for help. And its okay to treat myself which is why I splurged on a box of butter cookies yesterday. If we make it onto the porch later today I’ll nibble on them while Steve has some strawberry ice cream. Gotta put some healthy fat back on his bones.

As physical therapy ended yesterday, I stood next to Steve in his wheelchair to talk with the therapist. At some point the therapist began to smile. I looked down and saw that Steve was raising his arm to place about my waist. I started to help him and the therapist gently shook his head. Oh, right, I said. Good exercise! And I waited patiently for Steve to tighten his grip. And so it goes …

I don’t think the wind and rain this morning really constitutes a storm, per se, but there is a ruggedness to the weather that makes me reminisce about a younger me who would relish dashing outside, however briefly, to experience a summer storm. Not so much now. I am wrapped in a thick sweater, sipping hot coffee, and tempted to slip back under the covers where a sleepy Steve still resides. I’ll wake him in a bit because he has a calvacade of people coming through today, friends, family, tai chi teachers and so on. Meanwhile I share a poem I wrote, way back when, all the way back in 2010, about the storms of my youth in Virginia.

Summer Storms

The food I’ve purchased and brought North with me.Β 

But the weather I could not carry in a cardboard box.

So when people askΒ  what I miss, that is what I tell them,

I miss most the southern summer storm.

You know the ones,

the ones with rolling thunder trailing white lightening in their wake.

Sheets of rain falling like milk from the sky. 

Such deafening noise and blinding light.

Children trembling as we peered past drawn curtains.

Unending it seemed but then poof! 

Like magic it would stop, leaving silence in the air.Β 

Darkness would part for the sun.  Birds sang.

All that remained of the storm would be puddles

and leaves strewn across the front porch.

We’d step outside into a golden light. 

God had scrubbed the world clean.

Just for us, you know, so that we could play. 

And play we did until the sun set

and the lightening bugs came out and danced with the stars. 

We would sit in the damp

winding down from another day well done. 

That is why I miss the summer storm.

the borage …

… survived the initial bunny attack and is somewhat thriving. Maybe bunnies don’t like the taste of cucumbers.

The pansies survived the birds snipping off its flowers to decorate early Spring nests.

The potatoes are thriving in their bucket nestled amidst the weeds.

And the scapes are forming on the garlic. Not sure how much more will be planted on the ground this growing season but feeling good about what’s out there right now.

Hard to believe it has been well over fifteen or more years since I used to meander the trails of Edmands Park in Newton, MA. I wrote about the experience: https://wordsandimagesbycynthia.com/2016/11/17/revisiting-edmands-park/

And now I am honored to have a couple of my floral photos from the park in the the 2026 edition of the Newton Conservators Trail Guide. The layout, graphics and information is wonderful. Leafing through it actually inspires me to put on my hiking boots and head back out into the woods. If you’re in the area, I hope you’ll give it a try. Available here: https://newtonconservators.org/buy-a-guide/

One of my favorite poems is This is Just to Say by William Carlos Williams. I thought of that poem as I stepped out onto the porch today and picked some greens. He ate plums. I picked some swiss chard. πŸ™‚

Here is What I Have to Say

I’ve been eating 

the swiss chard 

from a pot

on the porch

just like a rabbit

nibbling a few leavesΒ 

at a time

so delicious

crisp and crunchy

colors bright green

and oh yes the ruby

all divine

sunlight on greens

not snow …

… but emerging white blossoms on the tree across the street. In the fall, this tree’s leaves turns bright red.

morning snow fall

It was quite lovely when it first fell and then the big flakes turned to sleet and then rain and then the sun burst forth. All the seasons in one day.

winter light

I think I paid more for this bouquet of tulips than I meant to but when the afternoon winter light illuminates them I don’t really mind.

culinary therapy

What I continually learn on this journey with Steve as a cancer and stroke survivor is the power of meaningful and functional engagement with the world. Do a physical exercise just to do the exercise, no matter how good it is for you? Nope. Need to help do tasks to feed family and friends as you’ve done all your life? Oh heck yeah! Someone was fiercely determined to grate the roma tomatoes for a big batch of no-cook pasta sauce. He gave it a good effort but those tomatoes were tough so out came the knife. Big chunks to toss in the blender along with garlic and celery. Success with the slicing … except, as I turned around, I noticed someone eating the tomatoes and so his sous chef position was temporarily revoked.

Later we did the taste test. I wanted to add salt (I always do) but Steve said, “It’s good as it is.” And so that’s how we served it up for dinner with some items on the side, sliced leftover chicken, sauteed mushrooms and mozzarella cheese.

Go team! πŸ™‚