Unearthing a life.....

My starting point subject today will be gardening, BUT FIRST an almost brief enough report on my concition. I've been through two evolutions of the chemo so far (the third will start this coming Monday morning early) and there seems to be a pattern to the after-effects. Following the chemo, I feel good until around noon the next day. Then I topple over. Sideways on the couch. Occasionally I will struggle erect and blink owlishly at the TV or a visitor, or Bookworm, or Allie. Maybe grab a quick bite to eat ... then topple again. After five or six days of this I begin to rise rapidly from the ashes (according to Bookworm) and enter into a week of feeling quite good and able to do some minor work (i.e., creating the potted deck garden). THEN, during week three, I begin to slip backwards. Usually I can do some light work in the mornings, but by 1:00 pm, I'm fighting to stay awake and heading for the couch for a little keel-over time. The hint of nausea that I fight off with pills during week one, sneaks around, trying to make a comeback during week three.

What's with my best week being week two .... in the middle? I do not know. I await enlightenment.

My friend Mike (who's going through this also) called a couple days ago to report that his latest cat scan showed a 60% reduction in the size of his tumors and an increase in the available space in his lungs. I have faith that my treatment is following the same path. I know I am breathing more effectively and my doctor has confirmed that.

Daughter Kelly and grandson Morgan will arrive here early on Father's Day. She and I both like to cook AND we both like to garden ... so I am eager to show off my potted deck garden.

Since my ancestors acquired their first little land grant in the Colony of South Carolina (in 1767), none of my direct line have ever gotten their fingers too far from the soil. From G-G-G-G grandpa Evan down to grandpa Charlie, they chased the newly opening lands across the continent as farmers. [Okay, I know there was nothing "newly opening" about it. It was a shameful mix of genocide and theft.] My Dad was not a farmer. He escaped the mold and became a railroader. But he gardened. Mainly salad vegetables, with strawberries and raspberries. Tulips, poppies, lilies, snapdragons .... and his one great love - irises. Three score or more varieties of iris.

I've been even less of a gardener than my Dad. I've not grown anything edible. The efforts that I have made, have all been bent towards flowers. Daughter Kelly, on the other hand, has embraced both vegetables and flowers. And like my Dad, she can often make her dinner salads from produce growing in her backyard. In celebration of her green thumb, I've included two pictures of her in this post. In the one above (ca 1960) she's posing as daddy's helper in front of one of my wimpy floral plantings. In the shot below (ca 2002), she and grandson Morgan are working in a part of her definitely-not-wimpy flower garden.