Roses, roses......

'There is simply the rose; it is perfect in every moment of its existence'

Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Suddenly the garden is full of the colour and scent of roses.

One waits so long, and then, there they are, blossoming, swaying, showing off their frilly blooms.

Golden Gate is a lovely scented yellow rose, which would go ever upwards, climbing fences higher than mine.

 Here is the beautiful Gertrude Jekyll, blushing

pinkly. One bloom is enough to scent a room.

This beauty is a rose that I bought from France, and have never been able to find here. She is called, for some reason, 

Pullman Orient Express. Very little scent, but the colours make up for that.

Pale pink Alnwick, another highly scented rose.

Golden Gate again, my husband's favourite.

Always reminds me of lemon meringue.

Did you, like me, spend hours as a child trying to create rose petal scent?

Not roses indeed.
Just a glimpse into the greenhouse where my tomatoes are companion planted with French marigolds to keep away greenfly.
There is so much more to look forward to in the garden now June is here.

Filling my days ( and a quote)

So, what have I been doing this week? 

Apart from sleeping very well, I have tried to do some of the things which I am not normally able to do whilst I look after my husband.

I went to a painting class on Tuesday, just a small group led by a trained Art teacher. We all chose our own subject, though the other ladies were well on , having been going every week.

I chose to start a watercolour of roses, and wasnt displeased with the result, though it took me a long time to be confident again.

I shall perhaps find time to work on the sketch.

On Wednesday I did something purely for me....I had a shoulder massage and a facial at this lovely hotel in Falmouth.

Just to sit overlooking the water, have a little lunch and wander down for an appointment with a kind and gentle beautician. It relaxed me so much, and I knew I could take my time.

On Thursday I took a friend out for coffee, and we sat in the garden with our drinks and shared a piece of home made cake together.

On Friday, not so exciting, I took the car in for a Service, necessary and much easier when I wasnt watching the time.

In between all these 'freedom' moments, I popped in to see my husband, took strawberries, had a reassuring chat, and met some of the other people staying in the Nursing home. There are one or two, like my husband, just there for a couple of weeks to give their spouse a break.

We'll see what next week brings. Friends asked me to go and stay with them, but I would rather just rebuild myself at home. 

I am so happy spending time in my own home, giving the garden more attention than usual, doing a little patchwork, reading.

It's a Slow lifestyle.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I'm sharing below, a piece of writing by Nicci Gerard , from her book

'What dementia teaches us about love'

It's one of the best and most understanding books that I have come across.

I hope this isnt too serious a subject.

The Carer

-taking on the tasks that used to be his, making decisions he used to make, taking over the finances, the diary keeper, the timekeeper. She stops him from getting lost, and finds him when he is. 

She comforts him when he is anxious. She mops up his tears.

She tries not to become impatient when he repeats himself, or shows her impatience and then feels guilty.

What she does, day in, day out, is unseen, unvalued. She tries to hold onto her own self, but feels it is slipping away from her. She is the memory, the voice, the custodian of their past, the narrator of their story, the Gatekeeper.
-------------

May your unfailing love rest upon us, Lord, even as we put our hope in you.
Psalm 33, v 22

A stay away.

Today my husband went into this lovely little Nursing home in Truro, for two weeks Respite care.

It's hard, as I know he does not like change, but this is somewhere he has been previously and is a small and caring Home with only thirty people.

Being in the city means that various members of the family and friends will be able to visit him.

The last three months have been hard for me, emotionally and physically, although he has no memory of his experiences in Hospital. 

We both know that I need a short time to have a break from Caring responsibilities, though I miss him already.

Happily one of the 'children' popped in to see him this evening and reported that all was well and he was enjoying supper.

He has a light and airy room on the ground floor and there seem to be plenty of caring staff, headed by Matron, one of the 'old School', I think.

I may just sleep for two weeks!

A day out.

For me, a day away from home is a rare thing, and all the more appreciated.

Two kindly Carers looked after my husband for the day and I set off on a train journey....not very far, to Liskeard , about 40 minutes away. It was a beautiful run as the beech trees were out in early leaf, bluebells could be seen from the carriage, and there was even a coffee being served.

At Liskeard station I met the lovely Mary of A breath of fresh air
and her charming husband. They had travelled down from Torquay for the day, a longer journey than mine.
We have been communicating for around 10 years, and I think we both began the blogs at about the same time.
We settled into a hotel lounge and never stopped talking, over coffee, then a little glass of something....Cornish beer for Bob!
Moving on to a small vegetarian cafe, we enjoyed lunch.

 Then keeping an eye on the time we decided to return to the hotel to order a taxi back to the station.
What we hadnt realised is that every single taxi in this little market town would be occupied with the School runs.
The lovely receptionist tried one company after another with no success. With a bright smile she said 'That's all right, I'll get my Dad to take you. He's only round the corner'.
And so we were run to the station by a very nice gentleman, courtesy of a sweet daughter. 
Aren't people kind?
Such a lovely day meeting new friends who already felt like old friends.

Birth announcement.

It's a boy!

The Duke and Duchess of Sussex have a son.

Well wishers have been flooding into Windsor to wave flags, open bottles of champagne, and generally celebrate.

We now know that he is called Archie Harrison Mountbatten-Windsor.

Am I being pedantic when I say I was surprised at Prince H's grammar?

'M and myself have had a baby boy??'

The usage of the 'myself' word is a minefield, I agree.

Just can't stop being a teacher.......