So much, so little.

I am happy that Olive and her hubby asked us to come to their place for supper. Olive asked if we could do it Monday or Wednesday. I picked Wednesday.
This way there was more time to get hubby scrubbed up and presentable. 

For him, a shower is like running a marathon at high altitude. The effort leaves him exhausted and feeling breathless even while using his 02. He has the mobility to get in the tub and sit in the shower seat and get out.

But the rest of it has pretty much gone beyond his abilities. We've worked out a pretty good system in which I do most of the work. 

Face it as we get older, or our parents get older, this may be something we have to face. I can recall trying to get my MIL to take a shower or help her wash up and how she resisted. Think of a Donkey with their feet firmly planted and no matter what you do and how you ask, you cannot get that Donkey to step forward. You as the caregiver may as well be speaking a foreign language or gibberish. 

Not a thing in the world could convince my MIL that she needed to wash up. Eventually we solved that issue with a person from Helping Hands [a service for in home assistance]. For whatever the reason, it seemed that 'an official' -- not a family member, had more sway in these matters.

Now in the case of hubby, he puts it off and puts it off. He resists firmly in all ways that he can avoid the shower. 

Too tired.
Need a nap.
Too late in the day.
Too early in the day.
Tomorrow.
I don't like the clothes you picked out.
Too cold.
I just had one. [didn't...but that is a common one]

Last summer he had PT 3 times a week. He was motivated to clean up for the therapists and shower each week with my help so the girls saw a clean hubby.

One time I stripped the bed of everything and said there would be no sheets or bedding until he wanted a shower.
Don't laugh.
He went to bed in a flannel shirt, his jeans, but took off his shoes. He didn't care. That's what MDD does to a person and he also has damage from his stroke to his brain which also shows up as apathy.

His severe depression raises its hideous head each winter. I'm hopeful that the longer days and sunlight will help. This is the part of the year where he sits and stares at the floor or out the window at nothing.

This is what it feels like to observe him:

Where is he? What is he thinking? Where it the guy I used to know?

While visiting my mother in the nursing home for the last two years of her life, I noticed this was a a theme in so many of the rooms I passed. They didn't look like the above image, but the feeling of walking by people who sat staring off into space was uncomfortable. 
We as humans don't really know how to treat others that are in that space.

Is this what loss, despair, and depression look like? Not always, but it is tough to see.

Those who work in Nursing Homes and Assisted Living have to be angels and carry so much compassion.

And it raises the question regarding quality of life. 

If you cannot raise Hope then it feels as if all is lost.

I know that I have to keep my hope and positive disposition alive or I will easily fall into that place of darkness.
That may be a simple explanation as to why I take walks in pouring rain just to see water run over sticks in a ditch.
It gives me a sense of wonder and that gives me daily hope.

Our visit with Olive, her husband, and son went wonderfully.  I cannot recall the last time my husband went somewhere for a visit.

Three cheers for good neighbors!

Welcome to March Madness Mud

I never think of March as any other type of month except mud month. In fact, I think March can be more dreary than November in so many ways. The grass is brown, the mud is brown, and nothing really looks appealing to my eyes.

This is a photo of the mud pasture a few years ago:

In the low part of the driveway, it can get like this depending on the melt and how the frost comes out of the ground.
Now that we are not running the skid steer daily up and down the lower part of the driveway, it isn't quite as bad.

The Spring Thaw is always a wonder around here. I am amused at all of the times hubby got a tractor stuck when it sank into the ground while he was going up hill with a round bale to a pasture. Eventually we got a skid steer and put on tracks. And yes, it is possible to get one of those stuck too. 

Me? I put hay on sleds and pull them out to areas where I have feeders that are up on a hillside and not sitting in water. I keep a big feed tub next to the porch to rinse my muddy boots off before I step onto the porch.

Even those who live on the ridge have Mud Madness. This is one of the most amusing signs I've ever seen.

He not only has mud, it is Muddey.

During this time of the year, I generally park just a bit up on the hill. Anyone wishing to come down our driveway will see its blocked from the top of the hill.

I am hoping that the fella who does our plowing will be able to build a nice rock base and gravel on top of that. It has been 10 years since the hill has been done and probably 30 years since the lower driveway has been done.

If this mud season is extended, it will suck for us getting our heater fixed. I wouldn't allow anyone to come right now down to the house in a vehicle that doesn't have 4 wheel/all wheel drive. 

Until the ground settles, or until we get some more cold nights...

It is too

Muddey....

Walking the...goat?

With the rapid warm up, things have turned to mush, the gravel roads are soup in places as is my driveway.
Patience will prevail and things will return to normal once the deep frost comes up and out of the ground.

Sven is such a hoot. My neighbors are still bottle feeding him and letting him out in the yard to play with the kids and go on little walks with him.
He'll come home in about two weeks.

Lauren and I decided to go for a walk on Thursday, we both took a break from our 'house' duties. I put Sven on a lead and off we went up the road. He is such a quick learner! I didn't put a collar on him but used what I call a slip. If he pulled and jerked the rope tightens a bit [no I would not let him choke himself]. As soon as he stops pulling it loosens.

It only took him about 100 yards to figure that out. He walked better than most dogs do on a lead!

We walked about two miles and enjoyed the fresh air. Basil and Sven and two ladies walking up the gravel road and enjoying the first day of Spring.

On the way back I wanted to see if Sven would follow me across some running water. He did, but mainly because Basil went first. We crossed again and he acted as if it were no big deal.
The arrow points to Basil's tail as she leaped over the water....

I can't wait to take him and Charlie on a walk together next. That may be a goal for this weekend.

The amount of yard work I need and want to do is almost overwhelming. Along with that I need to put up the fencing for the sunny side of Sven's new pen. My Kenosha Friends are going to help me with the goat stall inside the shed and the 'goat' doggy style door I want put in.
I have some old wooden spools to set out as well as some old broken plastic water tanks to use with planks to set up a play ground in his pen.

I intend to have Sven out on a tie out in the summer to clean up the nasty weedy spots in the yard. Goats are good for that.

So more goat walking is in the near future.
How about a trip down through our woods to the creek?

We visited with Rich's PCP for the VA this week. She noted the deep depression he had and suggested some more 'tests' for lung function and some therapy. I should have just told her to forget it. If you don't help the depression he won't care about the rest.

Though his latest set back was actually not a medical one.

All right. The sun will come up soon and I need to go for some feed and groceries!

So it is March

I think March is more dull than any other month. The snow melts leaving the area with piles of dirty half melted snow and mud. Mud.
If it freezes overnight then I can pull up to the house. If it doesn't, well I can back down the driveway and park at the bottom of the hill.

It is 'bucket' season. I keep a bucket of water at the porch with a brush to scrub my boots off before going onto the porch. It is just how the March Protocol works.

March holds promises of something better than dreary skies and faded grasses. It is also the time to rake the yard and think about connecting up the fences again. Winter is officially over.

Yet oaks that are not in the wind still cling to their leaves.

This March has been a bit of a strange one. Birthdays, deaths, memories, forgetfulness, aging, controversy, disruption, and some sort of hope. I have hope, I always try to have it on my shoulder and never further than my back pocket.

But that is what March brings.

Mud Season

Me.
I look at the house and see the mud covered rugs and cringe. Our weather is changing back to Mud Season in March.

Him.
He sees no trace of dirt. Mud? He suggests I wait until mud season is over.

Me.
"I see muddy dog tracks on the new beautiful kitchen floor."

Him.
"Don't look at it like that. Don't look at the tracks!"

Me.
"I see them, they are there and the rugs are grey with dirt. Look at the dog tracks!"

He squints his eyes and tips his head.
"They don't seem to bother the dog much."

I sigh. It is mud season. But I like a clean floor.

Time to break out the broom, the mop and wash the kitchen floor and the rugs.

In a day or two I can repeat the process.

However I have set up the boot bucket outside with a brush to dip and wash boots before coming into the house.

Welcome March Mud Season.