Raymond, The Autumn Years

Introduction:

When I split up with my partner of 17 years, I made a promise to myself.  That promise was to cook for myself, and to treat myself better.  Thanks to my ex, I now eat a more healthy and varied diet, and I didn’t want to give that up.  So I started shopping and looking for recipes that I liked. This was something that I avoided all my life.  I didn’t like grocery stores, and I didn’t want to be caught dead, reading a woman’s magazine. I must admit that in the beginning, my efforts ranged from disastrous to happy accidents.  However, I didn’t give up, and eventually became a good cook.

As I’ve grown older, I also felt a need to mark the passage of time in my life.  I wanted a way to remember when the first robins arrived in the spring, when the moon was closest and brightest, and  exactly what date it was when I had an epiphany, or learned a hard lesson in life. 

Five years ago, I re-married my husband after 27 years, and moved to Raymond.  For the first time in my life, I had a yard and a chance to become a southern gardener.  I tackled this task with great gusto and ignorance.  My first landscaping attempts were a disaster.  I tried to make a path around one side of the house and no one would walk on it.  I paid $100.00 for someone to come and dig a flower garden bed in front of the house, the size of a small football field.  I mean, what was I thinking!   Not only would it cost hundreds of dollars in flowers to fill it up, but now I had created a maintenance problem.  I eventually figured out that what I needed were perennials and drought resistant plants.  I also needed garden beds that were reasonable in size and easy to take care of.  I know I’m getting older and I found myself wondering just what I could maintain in the future.  But overall, I now find myself in touch with the earth and I still enjoy digging in the dirt. 

So in order to incorporate all of the above, I’ve decided to keep a running journal to note my passage in time.  Not one that adheres strictly to dates, but one that records the positive progress of my life.  At least in my coming old age, I’ll be able to read about my journey and remember what happened to me.  I hope it will bring peace of mind when I no longer have short term memory.