One month ago today Jody passed away. And this evening, LZP walked out back and on her magnolia bush was one bloom.

Glenda and I are watching TV with a tornado warning scrolling across the top. Can you see us waving from the side door.?

We ate dinner at the Possum Trot and then Glenda drove us home in a torrential rainstorm.

Glenda says, “Hey.” I told her to; it was a trick “hey” but she’s nice would have said hi anyway.

She says if the need arises, she’ll get me up to go to the basement. This is the fourth storm system of the day. The first I encountered on the way down and thought that the hail was going to break my windshield – really. The second was at lunch with Sue and her husband Marshall, Ann, Glenda and the three ladies’ brother Duane.

The third was after the trip to Kingman Fraternal Cemetery (of which I have pictures) and now this green, yellow and red abstract art project.

Oh, yeah, Robert called and there is a limb down over the driveway.

I woke up; it was dark. I thought my watch said four; a blink later it was ten after five. I don’t know – maybe I read the watch wrong the first time, or perhaps I had a mini-snooze. No harm done since I did get up when it was dark and therefore early enough to get ready to go to Kingman with flowers for Daddy and Miss Alice.

I’m meeting my cousins, all of us granddaughters of Byron and Nellie Grismore and we’re going to put flowers on the graves of our grandparents and great-grandparents. The old people. Not so old in terms of the Earth, but if you think in a generational sense . . . yeah, the old people.

Yesterday, I took off and flowered two cemeteries and then mowed the Scott lawn – at least a huge part of it. It was necessary. The mowers had been in the shop and the rain and humidity were a great cheering section for anything green. IT WAS A JUNGLE OUT THERE!

Right now I am going to go over to Google maps to review the trip plan. In this state, Indiana, all roads lead to Indianapolis, so you have to be creative in going other places. I think I will use GPS in places where roads blend with other roads and then peel off in their own identity again. I like it when the voice says . . . Calculating new route. She’s going to have a nervous breakdown today.

My first stop will be in Attica to meet up with Susie, Glenda and Ann. It’s on Highway 41. Then we’ll travel south to Kingman to the cemetery – it’s just a wee bit off of Highway 41. I have a vague memory of my dad telling me how his father used to take the kids out to watch the engineers build it way back then.

Usually, a lot of fields are full of yellow mustard blooms this time of year. That is not too interesting, but it is really pleasant to see when thoughts are about people loved and gone. Perhaps it will be my “Rosebud”; some young whipper-snapper doctor will pronounce time of death and ask, “What did she say at the end? . . . . fields of yellow mustard blooms?”

I do hope I am getting ahead of myself here.