It was The Bean Counter’s turn to play mine host this week. Always thrifty, the Honey Joys he served up were both delicious and a very effective way to use up a goodly dollop of the truckload of cornflakes we bought (it was on special!) in preparation for Nana’s stay. Always the lady, Nana quickly exercised her prerogative, resulting in the cornflakes option being removed from the breakfast menu. We Homesteaders are porridge folk but this way went a long way to reducing the cereal mountain (it really was a very good special!) and no one’ s going to complain about another round – or two…ish -of honey joys.
The words were chosen with his Mum in mind, too,
because Nana has entered into her new life at Thorrington Village with courage, grace and a joyous heap of Carpe Deim. She takes part in the exercise classes, has a seat reserved for the weekly jaunt in the Village Minivan, and raves about the entertainers they manage to book; every visit she has news to impart of another adventure. While absolutely delighted (and plenty relieved) by this happy turn of events, we on the sideline couldn’t help ourselves wondering just how long this could last.
Then on Thursday evening, The Bean Counter toddled off for some mother-son time.
“So, what did you get up to today?” he asked expectantly.
“Oh, not much,” she replied with a smile, “I had my hair done (pause to show off her new ‘do), had beef stew and ice cream for lunch – not together, of course (another pause for hilarity), and after lunch I lay on my bed and watched the tree.”
Clunk! The Bean Counter’s heart sunk. “You watched the tree?”
But this was not the hammer blow of depression-induced isolation. Instead, Nana, a bit puffed out from hair dresser small talk and the social whirl that is the dining room, had snuggled down under her mohair throw for a bit of post-lunch shut eye when the maple outside her window caught her attention. It’s remaining bright yellow leaves were fluttering in the autumnal breeze “just like washing on the line” and Nana spent the afternoon watching the wind bring the washing in. Her poetic musing full of pirouetting, leaping, twirling and waltzing (Nana was quite the dancer in her day) was somewhat lost on The Bean Counter but the delight she’d taken in the show outside her window wasn’t.
Rather than wasting time, Nana was simply happy in the moment.