Good morning, again, and I am happy to report that we have sun today. We got, officially, four inches of rain from Friday night through last night. I will let the gardens dry out a bit (like all day today) before doing any more. I looked out at the plants on the fence holders and was astonished at the growth of the lemon balm, oregano, and cat nip. I will harvest some of those for drying this week. Friday I did up a gallon of tea with a goodly amount of spearmint and some of the dried stevia. It tastes and smells so good. Since it rained yesterday I did a couple of hours of embroidery on a small table cloth that has languished for the last three or four months.

The Minnesota shut down continues. Unfortunately, Lois, it isn't simply the governor who is at fault. Their problems mirror the national standoff between a Democratic executive who wanted some tax increases and a Republican block insisting on spending cuts only. What we see here is divided government at its worst. Take a look at this Atlanta Journal Constitution article for details. Re-reading your comment I realize you may have meant 'government' rather than 'governor.' In that case I totally agree with you. I absolutely hate this parade of grown men acting like spoiled brats/school yard bullies. Sanity exited the stage long ago. For a good example of what I mean go to this post by Phoenix Woman at Firedoglake.

I found this interesting article on the history of the Federal Government and American Food. A couple of points I never knew: that part of the Food Stamp legislation allows recipients to use part of the benefit to purchase seed that would allow them to grow part of their own food and that before 1929 the Federal Government provide free seeds to farmers before the growing commercial seed industry successfully lobbied to get that program ended.

Mom forwarded this on to me and I simply had to share it:

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in
Moosomin, Saskatchewan , it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through his meagre possessions, they
found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy toAlberta.
The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the
Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health.

A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent,
poem.And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now
the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.

Crabby Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . .. . What do you see?
What are you thinking . . . . . when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man . .. . .. . not very wise,
Uncertain of habit . . . . . with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food . . . . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . . . . . 'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice . .. . .. . the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . A sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not .. . . . . lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . . . The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? . .. . . . Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse . . . . . &nbs p;you're not looking at me..

I'll tell you who I am. . . .. . . As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, . . . . . as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten . . .. . . with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters . . . . .. who love one another.

A young boy of Sixteen . . . . with wings on his feet.
Dreaming that soon now . . . . . a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . . . my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows . . . . that I promised to keep.

At Twenty-Five, now . . .. . . I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . . .. And a secure happy home

A man of Thirty . . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . . .. . With ties that should last.

At Forty, my young sons . . . . . have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me . . . .. . to see I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . .. My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . . . . . my wife is now dead. < BR> I look at the future . . . . . shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing . .. . . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . . . and the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man . . . . .. and nature is cruel.
'Tis jest to make old age . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles . . . . . grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass . . . . a young guy still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys . . . . . I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living . . . .. . life over again.

I think of the years, all too few . .. . . . gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . .. . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people .. . ... . . open and see.
Not a crabby old man . .. . Look closer . . . see ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might
brush aside without looking at the young soul within.

We will all, one day, be there, too!