“We turn not older with years, but newer every day.”
The day is overcast and a bit chilly. The sun was here earlier, but it disappeared while I was at breakfast. Last night was cold. We sat on the deck for movie night clad in sweatshirts and wrapped in afghans. Even Gracie had her afghan though hers was more for comfort than warmth. Dinner was pasta and garlic bread, perfect for a cold night on the deck.
The hummingbird comes every late afternoon around the same time. Yesterday I watched as that lovely bird drank from the nectar feeder hanging from a flower pot. The nectar bubbled as he drank. The bird then alighted on a branch, and I got to watch. Most times a hummingbird is a whirl of wings, but I got to see the dainty bird with his long bill just sit for a bit. I dared not move lest I scare him, but Gracie ran up the deck stairs and the glass lanterns shook and scared away my bird. Today I’ll remember to bring out my camera in hopes of getting a few pictures.
I always used to wonder how old people felt. I’d see them walking uptown to the First National pulling their carts behind them. Old back then was, of course, relative. I was young and even a teenager seemed worldly. My grandmother was forty nine when I was born. All my life I never thought of her as anything but old. She walked with a stoop. I always figured it started because she was taller than my grandfather and then she just stayed that way. Her clothes were sensible, and she smelled like lilacs. Her house was perfectly neat and free of dust. A bowl of candy was always on the table. We’d take only one or two but always wished we were brave enough to take more. She liked fruit jellies. Her hair was gray. She went to the beauty parlor every couple of weeks. It was her only extravagance. Her laugh was loud and sometimes embarrassing. I always figured she was so old she didn’t notice much anymore.
Old is again relative. All those old people I saw and wondered about knew they weren’t old at all.
Explore posts in the same categories: MusingsTags: grandmothers, growing older
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keepthecoffeecoming.blog 
August 15, 2010 at 11:47 am
Old is ten yeas more than you are now.
August 16, 2010 at 10:46 am
Bob,
Funny, I almost used that quote.
August 15, 2010 at 12:19 pm
The day is very much like Yours here today. It started out nice and sunny but soon winds and clouds came. But I don´t mind, I hope that this weather will make it easier to go back to work tomorrow after my vacation. I doubt that though 🙂
I agree with Bob on oldness 🙂
Here´s a link to Youtube showing Mustang Sally from the film The Comitments. It´s a good movie and if You haven´t seen it try too. Lots of good music in it,
Have a great day now!
Christer.
August 16, 2010 at 10:46 am
Christer,
I always figure it should be raining on Mondays, back to work days. That would make them far easier to bear.
Thanks for the link as now I have heard them!
August 15, 2010 at 3:15 pm
My grandfather smelled like cigar smoke all the time and I hated going to visit there. His room where he kept his private papers they said, would reek with smoke. I used to gag and say it makes me sick. But I never thought him old, just different. Old to me was when people looked sick and ancient. When the gray hair was thinning out and the person had a wrinkled face like the witches in childrens book. Kids books highly influenced my life, you see.
August 16, 2010 at 10:44 am
Z&Me,
I always thought mine old. I think, it was the way they carried themselves.
The cigar smoke jogged my memory as that’s what mine smoked as well. He wasn’t the warmest man so my memories are probably colored by that.
August 17, 2010 at 1:39 am
Doesn’t it just figure that you posted this bit about old people on my 50th birthday?!
August 17, 2010 at 12:54 pm
Nosila,
That was a grandmother of the 50’s. They were old by nature. Didn’t you know 50 is the new 30?
Happy belated birthday!!