George,when I was looking at quotes earlier I ran across these two and had to laugh. Just hang in there and people who live in Nebraska have to hang in there a little longer than others,that's all.

"Spring is nature's way of saying, 'Let's party!' "
Robin Williams

"Winter is nature's way of saying, 'Up yours.' "
Robert Byrn

Oh my goodness, George, be careful.

Neil will be 82 next month and he says the worst thing
is his loss of sight.

I shall claim 84 next month, were I looking for a mate, I'd place an ad saying:
"Vintage female in good condition
Still have a few of my looks
more than half of my teeth
and all of my wits..."
But George is correct, one is much older when it's winter and gets a bit younger when it is spring.

I don't know. I'm just pushing sixty & I've got a problem with crawling out from my nice warm bed on a cold & rainy winter's day.

And George, aren't you glad you have that snow blower?

Just this weekend I ordered a copy of Peg Bracken's last book, On Getting Old For the First Time. I enjoyed her columns many years ago, but hadn't realized until I looked her up on Wikipedia last week that she died a few months ago. She was 89.

She wrote the book ten years ago. Should be interesting.

When "the temperature is 0º, it is snowing and the wind is howling", one's age doesn't matter! One's bed would be the most appealing place to be, IMO! :>)

I was at the feed store Saturday, and hunkered down to get a carton of suet cakes off the bottom shelf. I got suspended in mid-air on the way back up, and a symphony of cracks and pops resounded from my knees, and although I wasn't hurting, it was like gravity suddenly doubled and it was an effort to finish straightening out to full height. I burst out laughing, and so did the clerk behind the counter, who is prolly twenty years my senior. It was like an inside joke. I guess that's better than crying about it.

Again last week, I was lunching with my cousin, who is about seven years my senior. I was telling her how I needed to get the guy down the road to switch over to his plough instead of a tiller, as I needed to double the size of my garden this year for a larger corn and melon patch. She looked at me in amazement and asked me how old I was. God willing, I'll always be out in my garden patch, and hope I croak there when the time comes.

The ironic part of it is, just when you get it all figured out how to grow stuff you've struggled with all your life, you croak. I always interrogate my elderly garden customers about their veggie patches. You get a bit of folklore, and a little superstition and nonsense, but they've also got a lot of knowledge the world has forgotten they want to pass along, and are generous enough to patiently explain it to an eager ear.

Oh yes, Suzi. I can always tell who is most likely to be a successful new gardener by the way they look for and then listen to the old gardeners. Although I admit it was a shock [a large number of years ago] when I heard one neighbor, talking to another neighbor, refer to me as an "old gardener". I didn't have white hair, my knees worked fine, and I was fighting the occasional plant failure instead of accepting that they were teaching me something.

But mornings like yesterday ~ 11° with a stiff breeze ~ and I don't even bother fighting gravity. Back under the down comforter to dream of sunshine and fresh tomatoes.

The Ancient One in this household finally decided that getting up on the roof to get the leaves off is a bit foolish. Our house is sort of a ranch style so he bought a Roof Rake. (Try saying Roof Rake three times, real fast)

It works like a charm. I wish we had had it years ago. It would have saved me a lot of worry.

It's like buying a snow blower, right George?? Right!!!

George, thanks for your delightful piece!

Over the years, i find myself more and more preoccupied with the hereafter...i get up, go into another room, and then say, "what the heck am i here after?"

I stole that somewhere....surely can't be expected to remember where...

Hate to think how bad a shape i'd be in if i didn't have the garden...and add me to those who hope they die pitching compost!

I think I horrified my DD, during a conversation about one's earthly remains. My family know that I want the old shell to be cremated, which leaves only a small container of ashes. So DD asks if the ashes should be put into an elaborate urn or a plain one. Oh, don't bother with putting the ashes into an urn, I say. Just bury them in the compost pile.