The Bird Bomb

In a few more days, barring any mishaps, this will be a golden dahlia. It's the "Souvenir d'Ete" variety I bought last summer. Even the bud is beautiful!

Dave came back yesterday around lunchtime from his adventures in Norfolk. It sounds like he had a good time, but he said he was overdressed. Apparently he wore a suit, because the christening was essentially a church service, but it all turned out to be very informal and the baby's father was even there in shorts. Oh well.

I had a pretty quiet day around the house, mostly reading. I still feel a little knocked-down by my recent stomach flu (or whatever it was). Speaking of which, I ate my lunch yesterday on our garden bench, beneath our Japanese maple, and just as I was finishing a bird crapped on my plate! I didn't quite see it happen but I heard it land, and thank goodness I did. Obviously I threw out the remainder of my food. That's yet another possible source of my illness that I never even considered -- I eat on that bench all the time!

I guess I can't get too paranoid about this -- germs are out there and I want to enjoy the garden. But bleah.

I did tell Dave that I can't bring myself to eat any of the leftovers from that dinner on Thursday -- mainly the cheeses we served on the charcuterie plate as a first course. I'm sure it's all fine given that Dave and our friend Warren ate it and had no reaction, and it's rare for me to waste food, but I just can't do it.

We had lots of butterflies in the garden yesterday, fluttering around in the warm and sunny afternoon. I saw a red admiral, several whites and at least one more comma:

Our buddleia bushes are blooming like crazy and the butterflies and bees are like iron filings to a magnet.

I can tell that Olga is relieved to have Dave home. She is normally a very heavy sleeper, snoring loudly, and I didn't hear that deep snore the entire time he was gone. I think she was half-awake waiting for his return. Now she's lying next to me sawing wood as usual, and I'm reminded of John Gray's recent post about sleeping dogs -- how they sleep when their pack is together and they feel safe. She's glad to have us all in one place.

Last night Dave and I watched a terrific documentary on Netflix, "Some Kind of Heaven," about The Villages, a city of retirees built in Central Florida. The Villages didn't exist when I was a kid -- it was all pastures, forests and swamps -- but it has ballooned to a massive development in the past 30-plus years. The documentary focuses on some eccentric residents and definitely illustrates that retirement has its ups and downs just like any other stage of life.

And speaking of that, I got sobering news yesterday from my brother. He said my mom will be moving to nursing care and not back to her apartment in memory care. She apparently hasn't bounced back from her recent flu and hospitalization and can't really do things on her own. So of course I'm wondering yet again whether I should get myself to Florida this summer, and given my mom's dementia, whether there's even any point. Maybe I could make a side trip on the way to or from Michigan, though that's quite a diversion. We shall see.