Odd creaks and cracks in the façade make me wonder just how long I can manage even this much reduced garden; today I feel a twinge in my wrist that’s brand-new. Always spooked by such specters as arthritis, I try to think why this ache exists. Could it be because I shoveled huge mounds of dirt from wheelbarrow to earth yesterday to fill in lawn holes? Surely just lifting three 40-pound bags of horse manure from the trunk of my car wouldn’t provoke it... and oh, yeah… I did dig out huge roots (dead, but still deeply attached to Mama Earth) left over from the ill-fated viburnum, fatally gnawed by a rabbit a few years ago…Slamming the hatchet into those thick, recalcitrant remains was all in a day’s work—so, is this ageing?
Other souls have pondered getting old; I love Jimmy Stewart’s wry comment; “After 60 it’s just patch, patch, patch…”
And wasn’t it Phyllis Diller who noted that- “Maybe it’s true that life begins at 50- but everything else starts to wear out, fall out, or spread out.”
Certainly I’m not immune to these same things, but I’m doing work important to Internal Security here, and should manage to wrangle an exception to the rule.
I’ve mentioned my cranky knees before; surely they aren’t protesting the hours I crawl about hunting invaders? I’ve always done that. Never mind that I sometimes forget to fetch my kneepad when working on brick paths. These knees have accepted that it’ll always be business as usual. There’s no excuse for my various appendages getting grumpy. I take Omega-3, vitamin C, exercise, and laugh a lot about nothing at all. All these things promote excellent health. I eat once a day, and drink lots of water-- although I must say that W. C. Fields’ observation about that gives me pause:
“I never drink water because of the disgusting things fish do in it.”
Gulp. But I bravely down decent amounts, with ice, and try not to think about it.
Visitors often share wonderful comments about frequently malfunctioning body parts; one lady sighed and said her back went out more than she did. A spry elderly couple noted that their address book contained only names ending in M.D., and another delightful man observed that for him old age would happen when he’d sink his teeth into a steak, and they’d stay there. He’d feel safely youthful until then.
So I take a deep breath. There is only today, and these still-blooming lovely geraniums and roses, and the pleasure that I take in simply admiring them! I can still run, so my get-up-and-go hasn’t got-up-and-gone! My teeth are NOT in a jar (yet), and various other parts don’t reside outside my chest, or on my dresser. I must focus on what matters, and stop thinking depressing thoughts.
The neighbor cat has just wandered in. I haven’t seen him in a good while, but here he is. I’m amazed to find that I’ve missed him. He makes me laugh, sneer, snarl and snort with disgust, but he’s an old acquaintance too, in an odd way.
I’ll take tea today in the gazebo, along with one ripe pear, of which I am inordinately fond.
These things, plus my dear husband, two delightful daughters, Bryn-dog, books, music, and dear friends, offer much to embrace.
So, with a good shake to shed the earwigs, I will carry on.