Found some Rosemary seeds that second son hadn't planted in the garden this spring, and will put them in a pot for Patricia. For remembrance, you know. I'm so overwhelmed in missing her and begin to cry at the slightest provocation. Small acts of quietness seem to help, plus not talking about it. Talking does not help.
Will take fourth son tomorrow morning to check out a possible job with the VA. A neighbor is encouraging him to apply for a clerical position, but am a bit wary of the whole situation (and am prayed up, so wondering if it's a spiritual nudging I'm getting). She's being a bit heavy-handed, convinced that this is what he's supposed to do---in the meantime forgetting that he already has parents who have his best interests at heart, plus we're praying about it. We've run into this sort of deal before with oldest daughter. Her former employer got too pushy with trying to find her another job before she let her go. We do know what we're doing, even though we're laid-back. We might not fit into the world's idea of what parents should do with their children---advancement, big bucks, and looking good to the masses, but we're not fools either. A bit concerned at this neighbor's hints at embellishing his resume as well. Once you begin making yourself sound more qualified than you really are, problems ensue. Plus your honesty is in question.
Having the kids do some extra reading this week while I lay low. Tales from Shakespeare by Charles and Mary Lamb, How the Heather Looks by Joan Bodger, and good old Edgar Allen Poe. Re-reading The Raven, since a new movie is coming out about Poe. I was a huge fan when I was younger, and of Emily Dickinson as well. Depressing reads for a child, aren't they? Must've been a sign.
Must go now. Reading Madeleine L'Engle and will cozy up with the bedroom window open. Take care.
(photo from unknown source)
