I use this saying often, especially now.

Our home is being surrounded by changes.

The latest change is a growing sandbar across the river.

The marina upstream has been adding many boatslips for renting.

We have watched the dredging off and on for months. The wet buckets full of mud rise from the water and dump the soupy sludge onto a barge. Muddy water streams off the equipment with each movement.

When things move water, water moves things.

The stirred up sediment goes with the flow of the water. It ends up somewhere else.

We are lucky that the island in front of us is on the other side of the river. Some neighbors to the north were not so lucky.

I hope the marina will do the right thing and clear the area in front of these piers.

Change causes change. Actions have reactions.

This last photo is a helicopter trying out the new sandbar. I suspect this will be a new hangout for boaters.

Here we go!

FLOW

I am sitting outside to drink my last cup of coffee.

I am watching the Muhly grass dance in the breeze again.

It is no longer fresh or green or coloful or beautiful,

but it is still dancing

and I am still learning…

from my garden.

FLOWER

I used my fine china and my grandmother’s gravy boat, for another first. It is time to celebrate time together.

FLOWER.

Humans are not my favorite species.

Man has motives that I do not abide.

I have lived apart from the herd,

but the people have found us.

They have added boat slips and buoys.

They have parked their barges beside us.

Sounds surround us day and night.

My quiet home is not alone.

No choice but change,

Here at home, no longer alone.

Will it still be a haven when we share it?

There is no choice

but change.

FLOW

My hair was still wet from a quick shower. I rushed out with a leaf blower to clear the driveway of its latest layer of leaves and acorns. As I methodically moved the blower back and forth like an elephant swinging its trunk, the first car pulled up discretely along the side of the road. I continued blowing as more cars appeared and parked.

Help was here! A truck pulled into the drive behind my sister’s car. It was full of folding tables, flattened boxes and bags of packing materials. The team emerged from their vehicles, one by one, wearing company T-shirts and name-tags, carrying their tools and aprons and lunch bags.

Months of stress melted off of me as I greeted the team and announced I wanted to hug each of them. I joked that the neighbors will think Mama died and if anyone shows up with a casserole just take it and say “Thank you.”

My sister did text some neighbors to alert them that a liquidation company was coming to help us. Neighbors here get excited when too many cars are at one house. This is an old neighborhood. The folks who started it and the surrounding churches are now in their eighties and nineties. Many children and grandchildren have moved into the homes of their aging kin as the elderly family members are moved out to a nursing home or die.

It was a great place to grow up. My sister and I will miss the community, but selling the house is a necessity. There are bills to pay. Taking excellent care of a dementia patient is rather expensive. We have two private helpers, Debbie and Monique, who stay with Mama during her active hours. They text us photos and updates so we will not worry about her. This support is worth every penny. They are like family.

If you know Mama, you know she insists on having things her way. She still thinks she is in charge of the world, even from her wheelchair. The dementia has taken away her reasoning ability. My sister and I would like to tell her what we are doing, but she would be horrified to think her home was being dismembered and sold. We are struggling with it ourselves.

If you are a follower, you know that we have spent months carefully going over each item and paper. We have spent hours washing glass, polishing metals, sorting and grouping things and throwing things away. It has been like watching another horribly necessary death.

There will be relief when it is over, but also great sadness. We will have a huge void where our home, our haven, used to be in our lives. Daddy is everywhere there, his shop, his garden building, his garden plot with its perfect soil from years of cultivation. Where will he be when home is gone?

The team from Caring Transitions of Lake Norman has handled our parents’ belongings with care and respect. That means a lot to us. This is how it should be.

The on-line auction will be next week. We hope the people who buy the things will use them and love them. That’s what matters to us.

FLOW

One of the mysteries found at Mama’s house was this old, blue music box. It was on Daddy’s side of their closet. Mama does not remember it, but dementia has erased things.

It is a swiss music box by Thorens.

It has a well-worn cover. It is small like for a male or for travel.

The music is lovely. I have played its tune over and over.

Its lovely notes have been soothing to me.

Becca

There is a hypertufa pot under this creeping fig tangle.

The Blue Spruce sedum cannot get what it needs to thrive because it has been covered over by an agressive plant.

Entangled, smothered and trapped. Over-taken by a bigger, stronger bully.

It will take some work to break this pot free, but it can be done… It must be done.

We all have a right to sunshine and rain, no matter how small or weak.

FLOW