Last year, I carved a pumpkin and put it out on our front doorstep with some others. They looked pretty good, if I do say so myself, and they lasted about a week and a half before the squirrels started munching on them. Fast forward eight months. One of them critters musta buried one of the seeds, because Jen pointed out a strange vine growing from beneath the cedar tree in the side yard. We couldn’t identify it, so we left it to see what would happen. Imagine our surprise when it continued to grow exponentially and start to bloom! Todd identified it as a pumpkin, and that’s what we’re going with unless it starts sprouting rutebegas or something. Two weeks ago, it had grown around the side of the house and out onto the front lawn—we had to wind it back on itself so I could mow—and I’d guess it’s probably about twenty feet long when stretched out. I hope it begins producing soon…

Meanwhile, I got another coat of paint on the front and east side of the house (the sides that got rolled, not sprayed) which means that next weekend I should be able to start on the windows. We, for better or for worse, have the original wooden double-hung sashes, and they are all showing wear from several years of neglect. Hopefully with new glazing, caulking and a coat of paint, they’ll last us another twenty years.

It’s Your Shift. Saturday evening I drove down to Georgetown to take an overnight shift with Jen’s Mom, who has been making slow, steady progress since her unscheduled helicopter delivery two weeks ago. Besides looking better, Mrs. Lockard is coherent, able to respond to questions, and her memory is improving. She’s still battling the aftereffects of the chemotherapy, but the difference in her condition since last weekend is remarkable.

The accomodations for visitors are pretty decent on the bone cancer ward. They have provided a lopsided, squeaky pull-out bed for the family which guarantees the need for a chiropractor. The coffee from the vending machine in the basement seems to be brewed from pure cane sugar (but man, that’ll wake your ass up for the drive home) and the selection of sugary treats is a welcome relief after the circuitous route through the hospital from the single unlocked entrance door to the ward.

However, I have to put all these minor complaints aside and give thanks to the hospital for letting the family stay with her at all. I think having company in that lonely place has brightened (and probably shortened) the recovery period for Mrs. Lockard, and that’s a small price to pay.