Moron

I am inordinately proud of my baby moron (carrots). You'd think I had made them myself rather than just followed some instructions on a free tub from M&S.

Also in the garden I noticed Uncle's spade. I don't think he'd ever used it, except maybe the once. But it gets used in our garden.

The words say the spade commemorates the rebuilding of the first care home created by the Elizabeth Fitzroy Trust. I've written before about Uncle's involvement with the organisation from the beginning and you can read a bit more about it here.

The original Donec Home was opened in the 1960s but it's the name that gave me pause for thought today as I was lying in the sun.

Donec. 

Auntie Audrey, Uncle's wife, died tragically and her funeral was very sad, and not just because it was a funeral. The priest taking the ceremony knew Audrey well and he summed up her life in the word, Donec.

It's a Latin word and means until. The priest said Audrey lived with a sense of until. Until what? Until it gets better? Until it's all right? Until I meet God? It struck me as a very sad way to live. As if always waiting for something else.

She dedicated her life to her handicapped son and I sometimes think Uncle lost out because of that. It's probably why he was away from home so often. Life wasn't perfect for either of them so maybe she was justified in waiting until.