I used to feel I'd like to reach 87 years of age, the average age of my mother Edith and her mother Ida Catton. Recently, I changed my mind after discovering I resemble Ida's mother, Lydia Jane Gordon, who lived to be 105 or 106 years of age. The average age of the three women is 93 years, and that number is my new goal.
Ninety-three. It's a tough number to reach but I'm motivated. I've got the best view in town.
When I look out from the workshop I see the lovely boughs of a stately blue spruce my wife and I planted shortly after moving into our house on Cathcart Street, Old South, in the mid-1980s. I used to see more boughs but I trimmed a few this year in order to expand my workspace outside. I've been told the tree will now grow much faster and I catch myself looking outside regularly to see if I can spot any change.
So far, not much. But I'm a patient man.
By the time I become a septuagenarian the tree will likely be 50 feet in height or more. When I become an octogenarian the tree will be nearing 70 feet in height. And when I stand beneath its boughs as a ninety-genarian, or whatever I'll be called (just don't call me late for supper), I'll be hoping the tree will reach 90 as well.
Until then, I'll keep my eye on it from my familiar vantage points... the shop doorway and window.
Photo by GH
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