Joannie is starting to move things from Mother’s house. She is very sentimental, so it must be hard.

This week, it was Mother’s “wedding china.” I can’t think why, for the life of me, Mother wanted fine china, crystal, and silver flatware when she was a bride. But she did and somehow managed to get what she considered “a comlete set,” which, to her, meant service for eight.

This is the delicate china.

Somewhat, it survived unshipped through many moves to little towns all across southern Oklahoma as we migrated with Daddy’s oilfield jobs. Ultimately, it came to Pecos, Texas.

It is so unlike anything the mother I knew ever would have chosen: Dainty rosebuds and pink and blue ribbons. But then I have to remember that it was chosen by an eighteen-year-old girl. she always treasured it.

Perhaps there were other occasions, but I can only remember it being used one time. I was about ten years old and an dear army friend of Daddy’s visited us in Ringling, Oklahoma, with his Australian wife, Agnes. Lovely people. Daddy had actually been entertained for meals by Agnes’s parents when they were stationed near Brisbane during “The War.”

I don’t remember the rest of the menu, but for dessert, Mother made an elaborate cake. I recall that it was very labor intensive and looked something like this:

As for the lovely china, no one wants that stuff any more. Even the upscale resale shops won’t take it. ( I actually have sixteen plates and cups and saucers of mine!) Regular people don’t live like that anymore. Actually, they never did.

This is hard. I know it’s time. But I have been singing “church music” since I was a tiny child and have been in my church choir since junior high. So, I am at a loss for words here, but I will never be at a loss for song. There is always a hymn humming along in my mind.

Yesterday, to honor my retirement, Dr. Klemme hand delivered to 1880 a huge bunch of flowers, all wrapped up in yards of cellophane and ribbons and my choir cross. Also included was a card signed by many members of the choir.

Words may fail. Song never does.

Sunrise on the autumnal equinox at the 45th parallel north. When everything hangs in perfect balance for one brief shining moment and then moves on. Does anyone have a thought about the UFO there next to the bench?

Truly. At once. All of a Sudden. After the hottest, driest summer in recent memory around here, rain began to fall late last night. An inch and a half by morning, according to Daddy’s rain gauge, stuck in the head of the Handsome Man.

I enjoyed the sweetest, loveliest paddle yesterday to close out the season. We had the South Santiam above where it flows into Foster Reservoir all to ourselves. You can paddle upstream with no current until it becomes too shallow to go on. A couple of hours. Then, you just turn around and paddle back. Going the other direction it seems like a new adventure. There were lots of opportunities when I might have taken pictures, but the conversation was just too good to pause and pull out my phone. Except here. We stopped to have lunch right next to this huge yellow jacket hive. We didn’t bother them so they didn’t bother us. I’m still recovering from a sting from on my hand from last weekend. I hope the US Military is harvesting that venom toh protect us from whatever evil Putin is thinking up. It is fast acting and long lasting.

This morning, I was able to take Dolly out for a long walk in the rain early on. Walking Dolly is always risky for me and anyone else, man or beast, who happens to be out and about in her sight. We pretty much had River Front Park all to ourselves.

Came back home and hung out the TT banner. We play FIS. Who the heck is that? Naturally, it won’t be on any channel we get here. But I hung the sock out anyway. Tomorrow, I’ll change it for my little KC flag. I feel sure I’ll be able to watch that one.

Brought in the last bunch of roses before the rain drenched them.

Next, I made my Purloined Plum Preserves. I consider any fruit from my neighbor’s Italian plum tree that falls on my side of the fence to be mine for the taking. I usually eat them right off the ground unwashed before I get them to the house.

Now, time to try some on buttered toast. The only decision to be made is tea or coffee.

This is our first birthday without Mother who was born on this date in 1923. I know it must be especially sad for Joannie who made it a special day for Mother every year. Today, she took flowers to the hairdresser and dear friend who went to the nursing home every week to take care of Mother. In fact, she went to the funeral home to make her look her best one last time.

I love this early picture of the two of us. Here, she must have just turned twenty.

She and I were a two-some for many years while we were both growing up and I have so many memories.

One thing I remember that is both good and bad: She rarely lived in the present and was always looking to the future. The good part about that was that I learned always to have something to look forward to.

She loved to have plans even during her last year when she was stuck alone in the nursing home. She wanted to think about what was going to happen next. Joannie taped daily plans for her up on her window listing shows she liked to watch. Jeopardy remained a favorite and I, too, look forward to that every day.

Right now, Joannie and I are looking forward to a pilgrimage early next year to the places Mother and I grew up. Since we were not able to be together for Mother’s funeral, this will be a meaningful memorial for us.

And we always have so much fun together. Joannie has no memory of living in Oklahoma, but I lived there until I was fifteen and got to know all my great-grandparents, grandparents, lots of aunts and uncles and cousins. I’ll have lots of place to show her and stories to tell.

I lived such a long time before I became an orphan. And now it hits home.

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child. A long way from home.