Thursday, November 08, 2012


It was such a lovely day today but we weren't going anywhere because of Mr Life's indisposition. He hasn't thrown up today but he still feels rotten and has spent the day on the sofa, in his pyjamas, looking very sad and eating only two ginger biscuits. If you knew Mr Life, you would realise that the not-eating thing is a sign of real illness.
I went out and tackled the autumn garden. Our one tree (a flowering cherry, or cheery as I seem determined to type) is quite large and has approximately twenty billion leaves, of which about ten billion were lying on the lawn and the flower beds, so I nobly raked these up. (The rest are still on the tree and will fall shortly.) I also cut down various herbaceous plants: paeonies and geraniums and that yellow nettle thing that's taking over again and Japanese anenomes and so on. Once the garden refuse bin was full to overflowing I did some weeding.
It's novel, gardening in November. In my working days, we were never here in winter daylight except at weekends, which were always busy. This time last year I was looking after Mum, who'd just come out of hospital after her bowel operation.
Normally I find gardening soothing but today I kept thinking about Mum, which made me sad. It seems no time at all since her operation but, inconsistently, it seems much longer than three months since she died. What was her room is currently full of stuff from the study, we've given all her clothes and most of her possessions away and yet... it seems so unlikely that I'll never see her again. I feel she might walk in any moment and I'd love to make her a cup of tea and give her one of her favourite tiffin biscuits.
In nature, autumn is followed by spring, but for people... alas... .  


  1. It may make you sad thinking about your Mum but, by the same token, the memories must also be very precious. You obviously loved your mother dearly and that is a wonderful thing too.

  2. It seems you have escaped the stomach bug...
    I find I think of my mother at the most unusual times - though it is often when I am doing some mundane, repetitive task, alone.

  3. As it happens, I was also collecting leaves in the garden today. The autumn of our lives - maybe these feelings come more strongly as we sweep up leaves and think of seasons past, or long gone. I understand how you feel. I really do.

  4. Ooh - do I spy colchicums? Love them.

    It's three years this week since my Mum died and it's odd how something quite ordinary will suddenly make me think of her - usually because there's something I want to tell her about that I know she would have enjoyed. Hey ho - it gets less sad though - most of the time :)
    Stay healthy and avoid the icky bug!

  5. I think you never stop missing loved ones who've died, but the pain dulls with the years, and there's always little grandson, growing and changing to distract you!

  6. I hope you escape the bug.
    Please convey my Get Well Wishes, to Mr. Life. It's most unpleasant feeling like that.

  7. Oh Isabelle, I'm so sad for you. It's so hard when such an integral part of our lives is gone. My Mom is still here, but I sometimes feel a bit the same way -- I'll think of something I want to discuss with her, but with her memory issues, I realize it would be too complicated. I hope Mr. Life is on the mend today so that you two can have a good weekend!