As we basked in the sunshine on toasty autumnal days, week after week, all the way into November, I had this nagging thought that this is not right. It's a sugar high: artificial and definitely not good for us. Wisconsin needs the cold in the same way that your perishables need to be placed in the refrigerator. Last night I had proof of this.
I had known that something was wrong with my right arm, but you know, when you're 68, you tend to ignore most irritants unless they persist and intensify. Still, as I went upstairs to bed, I gave it a good look as I took off my shirt. Sure enough, I had a fully embedded tick. And man oh man, was it embedded. Ed and I both tried to work it out with tweezers. We got most of it. Who knows how long it had been there. The inner part of the upper arm is not exactly a spot I'd look at in the course of the day.
What's remarkable is that I'd been fully clothed during the most vulnerable parts of the week, when we were hiking. Your best defense against ticks is to wear long pants, long sleeves, etc. And in November? Who ever heard of ticks in November? Oh, but wait: this November didn't have the killer frosts and cold temperatures. Instead, it had sunshine and temps straight out of late summer. And so the ticks live on.
We considered if it was in fact a Lyme bearing tick and decided that evidence (red halo, etc) was suggestive. Since time is of essence in terms of successful intervention, I spent the morning at my clinic showing off my remarkable puffed out arm (the conclusion? early stage Lyme disease), and picking up meds at my local pharmacy.
It's rather a mundane story, but it does add strength to that old saying -- be careful what you wish for. As I said before, we can't be too in love with weirdly warm weather. It doesn't belong here in November. Let's get down to the bracing cold stuff that is more in line with what we need to keep us and the flora and fauna healthy.
In other news -- the colors are still so very pretty! I know you're tired of seeing the farmhouse in my posts, but each morning, I look out on it, framed as it is in the gold of the front maples, and I think -- so pretty!
Breakfast. Waiting for Ed.
What else to add -- how about this tiny tidbit: I found a seasonal hand soap that I like. Can you guess why? (Yes, it's named after my oldest granddaughter -- Snowdrop!)
And so my thoughts fall back to the November of cold temps, of forecasts that mention snow showers (remember those??), of the gentle hum of a furnace, and of long winter nights with many great books loaded onto my Kindle.
