Though the warm temperatures are deceiving, yesterday was the first day of fall. In Indiana that means . . . The corn stalks are dry and dull, brittle beside the barns. The soybeans are changing color, glittering green and gold. I know, I should change careers and become a poet, but I suspect another relative would strangle me if I invaded her turf. I'll stick to story telling for now. Here's a little diddy about my fall clean-up catastrophe.
The Plant that Mom Picked
This is the place where Mom spent four hours improving the yard.
This is the plant that Mom picked from between the myrtle and bark.
This is the rash that Mom got, itchy and red and sore.
With that, she decided it just wasn't worth doing yardwork anymore.
This is the week the rash got worse, requiring drugs and a shot.
And this is the rash after starting to spread--poison ivy--I think not!
This is the nurse, who put Mom off, saying a reaction was highly unlikely.
And this is the place where Mom ended up in a drab wrap-around nighty.
This is Mom's foot, the only appendage where the rash had yet to spread.
This is the doctor who diagnosed hives and released her from the hospital bed.
These are the drugs Mom's been on, all from a stint in the yard.
Take her advice and stay inside. Good health is something to guard.
Translation: I was trimming and weeding four different types of shrubs and ivy, not noticing the two types of poison ivy mixed in. Had a reaction, which then changed to a different reaction, which made me want to claw the skin from my bones. This has REALLY messed up two weeks of my life. Watch yourselves out there. Plants can be dangerous, even in subdivisions.