The garden was a marginal success. Good tomatoes, peppers and squash, salad and herbs harvested. The beans were a bust for a reason I have yet to understand.
Come Friday, its time to go harvest a Plains Deer for the freezer. I'm looking forward to putting a "Bambi Wellington" together for our Christmas feast.
(H/T to Og over at: http://www.neanderpundit.com for the recipe.)
Today would have been Mom Anthony's 81st Birthday. She has been gone for nearly a year and a half. I still miss her. Grief is a strange beast. Our relationship was never an easy one. However, the fact that she is no longer available on the other end of the phone, or waiting for her children to set up a February trip to Tucson to visit her, or just there, being her obstinate, ornery self, smoking her Virginia Slims has left a hole in the universe that is populated by cloudy specters and a dull ache.
A wise old friend and counselor told me some years ago that any kind psychic/emotional pain is not fun. However, it has come up to the conscious level for a reason, stirred up from the deep, muddy miasma of the unconscious being. AND, as painful as it is, facing it isn't going to kill ya!
Happy Birthday Mum! I know you are finally at peace and restored to relationship with your Saviour...and with your life partner, Poppo Bob. Out of it all, the full knowledge that God is in charge if we allow Him to be continues to ring true.
~Ad maiorem dei gloriam!~