A few weeks ago, I fell for no good reason and landed on my knees. The impact was such that I’m quite sure I left an impression in the concrete sidewalk. One knee was torn up and developed a horrendous scab; the other swelled to the size of a softball. Both of them astonished me with their cries of pain.
The pain took my breath. For a good four days, I couldn’t stand or sit or walk or lie down without pain so intense I was reminded of labor. The pain wasn’t baby-producing intense, but it did provoke the same sort of awe.
This week, I got news that sucker-punched me. No. Nobody died. My relationships are all intact except maybe for the relationship I have with myself. For several days, my self-esteem has been crying out with the same level of pain as did my knees.
I have decided to get over it.
Today, I spent my time in the much neglected garden doing triage. I didn’t get as far as I had hoped due to the electric lawnmower dying, but I accomplished much in getting my equilibrium (and self-esteem) back. The puppies frolicked in the warm spring air and I tended to tender plants while guiltlessly executing weeds and banishing leaves.
Gardening season is upon me. I much prefer the awe of an Appalachian spring over the awe of surprise pain.
The sweet little, white crocuses that I planted a couple of years ago are finally blooming. They’ll be spectacular in a few years.
I have waxed rhapsodic about an Appalachian spring many times. I won’t bore us by doing it again. However, suffice it to say that I’m glorying in today’s weather and trying to create order in what passes for my yard.
Last year was the Great Garden Palooza of 2013. HMOKeefe was mighty sick and I took off work to be here with him. He slept a lot and during his naps I started two big garden projects: leveling the back yard and creating a kitchen door garden. He worsened and died before either project was finished, but he was excited about what I was doing. He would sit on the daybed by the bay window and watch me move retaining blocks, dirt and mulch.
There was no need to go to the gym last year. I moved enough wheelbarrow loads of stuff to surpass any gym workout. Unfortunately, I need to move as many as I did last year plus a few dozen more. I’m finding it hard to motivate. Instead, I sit in the lawn chair with the warm sun on my face and fantasize about how great the yard is going to look when I’m done with it.
I have a plaque that looks like a rock with the words it takes a long time to grow an old friend engraved on it. It’s really going to take a long time if I don’t get out of this lawn chair and get moving. Never mind that the house is also a mess and my to-do list is in volumes. . .
While I won’t wax rhapsodic about spring, let me just say that after the polar vortex, record cold and snow, and a generally sucky winter, I need this spring. I need this warm sun on my face and I need the soft, new grass curling around my bare feet. I need it all so much that in addition to finishing last year’s projects, I’m committed to restoring the front garden to its former glory. Yes, I’ve said this before. Yes, yes, I know. . . but really, I’m going to do it. Just as soon as I get out of this lawn chair.