I have been back East for almost two weeks and my suitcase remains in the foyer! No. I have not had a chance to unpack. Tons of mail. Besides the mail which should have been my priority but turned out not to be, I have been a slave to the backyard. The "stranger", John, has showed up just about everyday to help. Even yesterday with the snow flying. He granted my mother's wish and buried the fig trees. They are small; not like the ones we had when Pai was alive but a tremendous chore nevertheless. John dug the holes. I tied the branches with rope and helped him place them into the ground. Afterwards, I helped to shovel the dirt on top of them. Just the exercise I need for my back!

I promised my neurosurgeon I would have surgery in the fall; the spring was too busy a time. I have not gone back since. Would not be surprised if he refuses to see me again. It makes no sense to have spinal surgery again when I know I cannot change my lifestyle! Not until my mother sells the "quinta". That will not happen until her death because selling it, would mean her death. She forgets my age; in her mind I am still young and strong. I want to fool myself but the body protests!

In the evenings I have been up to my elbows making "marmelada". Quince marmalade and jam. I still have three quince trees to be picked, the branches weighed down with so many quince. I have three 5 gallon buckets waiting but I will pass tonight. I don't think I can see another pot of "merda melada" as I liked to call it when I was a child. Only behind my parents' back or there would have been serious consequences. My, how times have changed!

The next hurdle will be what to do with all the marmelada? I managed to give most of the grapes and apples away. I have even offered to give lessons on how to make the marmelada, but why bother? They know that they will be having all they want any day now.

And the beat goes on!