Old wood on patio

I've quit mourning seasons, the older I get. Gave up the notion of trying to hold onto summer, the one that I love, good wine, unwrinkled face....although I had a new thought about that old adage this morning, if I won the lottery, of course, I'd travel the world and save the world and make my children wealthy, but I'd also, along with putting my breasts back where they belong, get a facelift...move than skin one inch back all around and waah laah I am thirty-five again, woo hoo.

I had all of these revelations this morning, clearing the patio of detritus and hanging onto those few things that will be useful next spring: some pots and planters, all the old soil dumped into the middle of the middle planter, how the leaves in a pile on cement are like artwork....reminiscent of both a mummy mummified and an oblong piece of patio art.

I have new eyes, at the cost of $$$ cataract removal. I see everything now. Scary. Even my inner sight is changing. I looked in the mirror last week after the second eye was removed of its cataract and thought dear lord, where did all those age spots come from. When did all those wrinkles decide to reside on my cheeks? I look like my mother, where for a long time, well into my thirties I was lucky enough to have skin that fooled time. With a facelift pulling back the skin an inch, maybe a half an inch, there might be youthful incognito magic tric skin again.

I didn't spend that much time thinking about skin. Took the above picture instead.