Getting planted

Dad planted two honeysuckle bushes along the fence yesterday.  I really thought his planting days were about over.  Digging holes in our yard involves using a pick-axe, an axe, and a shovel.  The ground is hard and full of tree roots. It takes more strength than I have.  I try and keep an eye on Dad when he starts on projects like that.  I looked out yesterday and a couple of times he had dropped the tools and was holding on to the fence, looking down.  I always hope he's just examining the hole, not trying to hold himself up. 

A couple of weeks ago, Dad suddenly started telling me where he kept his insurance policies and his investment documents and his will.  I already had a general idea of where to look.  I know it's important that I know these things, but frankly, by the time he finished, I was really upset.  It was like he thought the end was near.  Physically he's getting more unsteady on his feet, but he continues to keep on keeping on as my Uncle Bud likes to say.

The next day, Dad went out to dig holes to plant 2 azaleas.  "Now I know why you were so eager to make me aware of what to do when you die.  You think that by the time you finish digging the holes to plant those azaleas, you'll be ready to be planted alongside them," I told him.  "It may surprise you to know that I'm not in any hurry to put you in the ground, so don't overdo it," I instructed.

He told me that he thought one of the honeysuckle plants was dead when he put it in the ground.  "Well, if it doesn't show any signs of life in a week or so, you can pull it up and plant something else in that hole you worked so hard to dig."  He agreed. 

I thought it was funny that he wanted more honeysuckle.  He spent years telling me that vines like that weren't good for the fence.  Last year he butchered my honeysuckle when he cut it back.  Now, he's suddenly decided that he likes it enough that he wants more planted where he can see it.  I can't keep up with how his mind works.