Gardening for the future

 

In keeping with this whole national hyperattention to aging, My Guy and I met with an elder lawyer on Friday. First of all, I feel in no way qualified to count myself in the ranks of elders, but there we are.

          In receiving a listing of residents at our condo association in Florida, we had discovered that several of our neighbors’ homes were listed not under their own names, but as overseen by so-and-so trust. Was this something we should be doing?

          At this point in life, thoughts turn defensive:

If/when we lose our marbles or mobility, how to pay for a nursing home without the other partner having to sell up the homestead?

If/when we go to that big Senior Center in the sky, how do we save the next generation from losing their inheritance to taxes and/or losing their own sanity trying to untangle a financial maze?

         

          Two mind-numbing hours later with the very nice lawyer of revocable vs irrevocable, living wills, executers, and terms like ‘per stirpes’, and I think we’re organized. We had written wills years ago and did much of this before, but My Guy’s health proxy disappeared when his last doctor died (no irony there) and three more grandchildren are on the scene now.

 

          In keeping with Friday’s theme of planning for elderhood, today I slapped on my gardening sneakers, grabbed my shovel, and was outside to work while there was still some cool to the morning.

          My bush men may have carted off the three holly goliaths last week, but that meant there was room to fill in the side bed. The goal was to put in something that didn’t require trimming or frankly much care at all.

          I opted for Knockout roses. They’re really more shrub than rose bush and will bloom into the fall. Judging by the way the condo landscape guys ruthlessly buzz the ones they monitor, Knockouts also seem impervious to rough handling. I also added a couple of zebra grasses for background interest.

          All well and good, but this meant the back-breaking work of shifting the stones used for mulch, cutting back landscape fabric, and digging some significant holes. I went slowly, though, and took breaks on my little weeding bench. My herniated disc stayed relatively quiet, I’m happy I still had enough oomph to get the job done, and my rose garden is on its way.

          Although it could use a few more grasses. . . .