Wet and Shaggy

This shaggy inkcap is growing in front of my mother’s garden fence. 

While I visited my mother and the carers E and Frau G for lunch and coffee, a number of crane flocks appeared out of the fog. They were flying really low, probably to stay under the clouds (see extra). It can’t be easy to fly in the constant rain.

My mother used to love watching and listening to the cranes, but now she doesn’t show any interest in them anymore. She hardly participates in the conversation these days; and when she tries, words fail her. Dementia is a cruel disease.