basil, and the frost around the corner

I have been playing a wait and see game with the weather, lately. There are many things in my garden that will get killed by frost. Each day I check the weather to see if it will go into the 30's. We've had 2 nights that said it would go to 37, and on one it went to 35!

So, why wait? Well, part of it is laziness, and part of it is enjoying seeing things continue to grow.

Harvesting the second set of tomatoes won't be easy, they are vines, and they are everywhere, and since they are green, they are hard to find. And, I like ripe tomatoes, as I've been getting a couple of ripe cherry tomatoes every other day.

With the basil, it is pure laziness. But, I finally decided that yesterday would be a perfect day for the harvest. I pulled up 6 plants by the roots, shook off the soil and got ready to go. The sun was shining, and I put my little mp3 player on and went to picking. Since I was making pesto, I didn't want to use leaves with spots, so that meant I had a lot of sorting to do. But, I ended up with a large bowlful of gorgeous shiny leaves, and it smelled wonderful.

It was interesting to sit and do this. I sat on our porch steps, with the sun and air so gorgeous, with leaves falling from trees, and felt my normal, current state of wary content. I can be content in the small moments, but larger things make me wistful and long for greater things(to be pregnant again/still, to be moving on fully).

As any gardener does, I am already thinking of the next season. I was in the kitchen, squeezing water from the blanched basil leaves, and I thought to myself, 'How will you be able to handle it if you aren't pregnant on your due date?' The basil formed a hard ball in my hand, once I took it from the cloth. I squeezed it, thinking, 'I hope it doesn't come to that, but you'll deal, you have to, as you've done with all of this.'

I realized, that I have been feeling like age is like the frost around the corner, as far as fertility is concerned.

Currently, I am 36, and, luckily, in decent fertile shape. But I don't know how long this sunny spell will last, how long I will have good eggs, and all of that. There is no nightly web-site where I can check my fertility forecast, but knowing that it only gets harder(colder) the older I get makes me want to rush to the clinic and get going.

Sorting, Heirlooms & Expectation

On Saturday I got the expected, but much earlier than expected, news that my grandmother would have to move to an assisted living home. She is my last grandparent, and we've always had a good relationship. It has been hard to see her having memory issues, lapses over the past couple of years. It was also, coincidentally, her 83rd birthday.

On Sunday, I went to help my aunts and uncle clean/clear/sort and pack up her apartment. She is moving from a one-bedroom with generous storage(5 closets, incl. walk-in) to a studio room.

Things we had to consider while sorting:
1. Can she injure herself with this?(accidental breakage-(like glass), etc, not purposefully)
2. Does she need this to feel at home?
3. Is this something that should be donated, or will someone want it?
4. Will this fit?(larger items, chairs, etc)
5. What should go over immediately to help her acclimate?
5. She said this(insert family heirloom here) was for ____, but now we find out she told each person that it was for them.

Obviously, we didn't get it all done, but it had me thinking a lot about what is important to us, what comforts us, everyday items. My aunt(by marriage) was somehow assigned to sorting her bureau, and almost tossed a few items that I knew had been on my grandmother's bureau for at least 30 yrs. Holding one, a heavy blue glass bowl, plain and non-descript, I realized how much and how little you can know about someone. My great-great grandfather was a glass blower. He moved the family from Pennsylvania to Indiana in the early 20th century because a natural gas mine was found there, and the glassmakers moved.

The bowl does not symbolize the move, her family, etc to anyone who hasn't heard this story. But, I can hold it as I wrap it up, and imagine him handing it to her, something he made, something he brought home. Hand to hand, this passage of family and place.

My other aunt and uncle are visibly shaken by this experience(while handling things remarkably well), and I realized that may be why my other aunt was sorting, because in amongst the heirlooms we were finding stained clothes, odd stashes of $1 bills, boxes of razor blades(!), crumpled papers, etc. Physical signs that she is no longer the fastidious woman who raised them.

It wasn't bothering me at all. I tried to figure out why.

Am I more distant because she only raised me for a couple of years? I don't know, it is possible, but I don't think that is it. It may, instead, be that I can deal with this for two reasons:
1. I volunteered in a hospital for 2 yrs and worked with patients in much worse condition.
2. I have had to do similar cleaning after my mother's manic episodes.

Somehow, none of the mess, paranoia, etc, seems attached to my grandmother, to who I know her to be. The true her, her true self, is not a paranoid, forgetful, messy person. Those things are just in the way.

Nevertheless, I find myself sad today. Her life has changed and will continue to change, I will help her walk, as she helped me walk. I will encourage her to eat healthy foods, as she did with me.

I came home with a few boxes of things, some I really want, some I am unsure of, but my family wanted me to take them. Part of me wants to take them back, for a day, and learn stories about each of them, especially the everyday objects like an old-fashioned measuring cup with the measurements all embossed around the edges. Pre-pyrex. I think my aunts and uncle expected me to ask about the "valuable" items, all of which will go in my uncle's basement for storage(except for her china display case items( but I am realizing that I want these simpler things, things my family have used daily for 100 yrs.

Do you have some similarly mundane item that is from someone in your family that you treasure?