Saturday Raspberries, Sunday Apple Tart and a Wheelchair on Monday

Saturday morning first thing I call  the Hospice Care nurse who says call the Palliative Care department of Devon Doctors who prescribe something to dry up Robin's excess saliva as this seems to be the cause of the coughing/ can't get his breath episodes. The prescription is actually a travel sickness antidote - a tiny patch to stick behind his ear - as one of the side effects of it is a dry mouth. I'm skeptical. Will try it anyway for 72 hours. No more episodes so far. Except a small one in the car.

 Just have to wait now for appointment with respiratory professor now.

  

Saturday morning we take refuge at my sister's farm....she feeds us a fabulous lunch - Robin always eats more of her food than anyone else's -  and afterwards feast on these autumn raspberries  that she picked that morning before the rain deluge. With extra for me to take home. We call them Pa's raspberries as they come from the original canes that he planted in the Small Garden near Pangbourne all those years ago - now transplanted to the rich soil of Somerset.

They taste even better than I remember. I love what my brother says about them - he grows lettuces on a farm in Fiji  - so has quite other challenges there.....

Rudolf Steiner is famous for saying that every farm (or garden) is

actually a unique individual organism and grows and develops in its
own unique ways over time, and even the plants that grow in each
garden take on the qualities of that particular place and those who
serve in the garden, and, over time, develop into varieties of species
that won't be found anywhere else in the world! So, you are developing
your unique Coburn raspberries, that have Pa's raspberries as their

ancestors.... 

Saturday evening we drive through our familiar Devon lanes,

everything rain washed and peaceful,

  a gentle way of filling in the time before  supper....although too much sitting in the car for me so I keep stopping to take photos.

Sunday morning  we are invited to coffee and cake by our friends recently moved to Cornwall to their beautiful bungalow and even more beautiful garden which includes a whole woodland.

 Immediately on arrival Robin wants to lie down so I have a chance to catch up with them and indulge in her glorious Apple Frangipane Tart ( a Paul Hollywood recipe she tells me) made with their own apples from the knarled lichen covered tree we can see from the conservatory where we are sitting.

When Robin wakes up  kind husband of friend sits with him and feeds him his slice of tart while she and I wander round their garden...  with a wonderful history as it was part of the garden of the old mansion house next door....

new roses...

recently bought at the Taunton Flower Show....

 ancient medlar apples...

what do you do with them..?

and crab apples - if you like jelly...

and a new, never seen before agapanthus - called Twister - a blue and white mix - very exciting.

They send us home with a box of black mulberries, giant firm and shiny yellow courgettes and a basket of cooking apples. I feel quite restored and replenished by their company and kindness.

When we arrive home this bowl of sweet ripe plums is waiting on the doorstep - a wonderful surprise gift with no note on it....but I think I know who they are from and I text a thank you ..... feeling so remembered and blessed.

This evening in another filling in time before supper I combine a short drive ( around the hospital which Robin loves to do) with a shopping trip to Waitose although all I need is bananas for his smoothies.

We park the car in the disabled place and right by the line of trolleys I see a very nice , new looking wheel chair with a purple seat. 

How about a ride in that? I say.

Up to now he has frowned at the idea but he goes and sits in it. The first person we meet is the consultant neurologist who first gave Robin his semantic dementia diagnosis.  He comes to say hello.

You look familiar, says Robin.

I'm one of your docs, he says. You don't usually see me here.

I explain a doc is a doctor but Robin doesn't remember him.

So  off we go around the aisles with a basket on his knees, his hands loose and dangling below it and I fill it with bananas and jellies for him and crisps and a packet of chocolate Minstrals for me.

When I tell Robin we have a wheelchair at home and he could go for a ride/walk in it from the house, with someone pushing it, he says,

It might be an idea....

Another first ...another barrier crossed.