Just last week, here I was bragging. Yoo hoo, see what I can do! You want the good news or the bad news first? Okay, here's the good news. I'm still here, able to walk, talk, take care of myself, the house, the garden. Here's the bad news:I'm old. If I were a car, I would have an antique auto license plate.
Yesterday, it took an hour to load the car for a dump run, and just 15 minutes to unload. When I came home, I saw a truck leave a package down by the gate. So, I decided to do two tasks at once. The nursery wagon stays on the porch, so I loaded some garden tools on it, and as I went down to the gate, I picked up a potted Echinacea that I've been meaning to plant. As I passed the bed where it will settle in, I dropped off the plant and tools, and continued on, picked up the package and started back up the hill.
The bed was in the shade, so I thought rather than make a second trip, I might as well dig a hole and set the plant in. What in the name of all that's good and holy was I thinking??? With difficulty, I got down on my knees. That immediately became painful because the hickory nuts have begun to fall, and ever helpful, the squirrels distribute them broadly. I had thudded to earth on grass that hid nuts (large, round) and nut shells (small, sharp). That was the first problem.
The second was that I was faced up hill, away from where I wanted to dig. So, like some giant Galapagos tortoise, I slowly and painfully (those nuts!) turned myself around to where I needed to be. The first whack of the hand landscaper hit a buried rock, throwing me off balance when it bounced back. I nearly pitched nose first into the flower bed. Recovering, I dug out rocks, scraped, removed dirt, over and over then realized I was rapidly overheating in ny black short sleeved tee.
When I began, the site had been shady. Now, in the sun, as I was rapidly overheating... I needed to stop, get in a cooler spot ASAP. So I did my fine Galapagos tortoise imitation again, until I was now facing up hill but still kneeling on hickory nut debris. Okay, time to rise.
For the last thirty years or so, rising from the ground (or floor) requires planning. In my prime (obviously a very very long time ago), I could fall down, dust myself off, and rise without thinking. Embarrassed, of course, but I didn't have to think about how to actually accomplish the feat. Now the act has to be conscious. I create an inner monologue, something like this: okay, brain, tell left leg to move into position. Tell left foot to straighten out, then flex the toes toward the ground. No? Really? There's no response from the left leg? How about if I use a hand and move the left foot into position? No? That's not going to work either? Now the left thigh has decided to have a muscle spasm? Okay brain, tell the left leg to stretch out. Hey, brain, let's put the left knee back on those painful hickory nuts and try the right leg. So slowly, slowly, I was on all fours, weight on the right knee and pushing myself up high enough that I could dig in with my right foot and get the knee off those bligafriggin' nut pieces, drag that uncooperative left leg up until I had two hands and two feet on the ground, my rear in the air...and Molly decided to come over and see if I wanted to play since I was in a resemblance of downward dog yoga position. "No, no Molly, no!!! Go away!"
I managed to rise without pitching forward onto my nose, took the wagon up to the house, came in and began to cool off. I finished planting this morning...but I took the kneeler bench down with me. If I lived in a more urban area, I'd post a sign telling passers by to stifle their laughter when I am working in the yard.
Do I laugh or cry?
Update: No Diagnosis
My Challenge Walk this morning
