The third day of the month delivers! It's that kind of day that gives strength to the claim that May really is the most beautiful month of the year. (Yes, yes, all are beautiful in their own way, but honestly, May has so much going for it that it has to take the lead.) I mean, the colors! Especially when seen against a blue sky. The garden doesn't produce much yet, here in south central Wisconsin, but it hardly matters. The stage is set. The explosion is coming.
It's been a week since my knee swap, though honestly, it feels like I've been hooked up to machines and wrapped up in bandages and tight stockings forever! I'm still slow at getting a day started. The effort to get dressed is so great that I always nap afterwards! And then it's time for breakfast.
We discuss our morning plans. I am now able to do laundry, so long as Ed carries the basket up and down the stairs to the basement. So I have that exciting adventure before me. Too, we caught an opossum trying to get into the chicken coop and we have to deal with that. And I suggest that we make one more trip to Koepke's Greenhouse. I need just a few plant replacements for the handful ruined by the chickens or the poor weather or both. This is a joyful excursion, because the night temperatures will have finally stabilized going forward. None of this dipping to near frost! Done with that!
(on the way to the greenhouse, your quintessentially beautiful spring vignette!)
(at the greenhouse...)
As I manipulate my cart around Koepke's, I'm struck by how warm and friendly the world of garden shoppers is. People who plant have inner goodness, don't you think? Or maybe it's that on a day like this, they're all buoyant! One very senior gardener in front of me says again and again -- I cannot believe this day has finally come! It's just so incredible! I've waited so long!
I share his enthusiasm.
(One more basket of color added to the farmette landscape...)
In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. The rule about driving is that you shouldn't do it if you're popping opioids. I rarely need them and certainly not during the day, so I'm back in the saddle again with child care, one week after surgery. Not bad!
(violets and pear blossoms...)
Snowdrop does recognize my slow pace and she offers to escort me to the farmhouse door. I smile at her gentle helpfulness. Working to be a nurse? -- I ask her. No, gaga, you know I'm going to be an astronomy teacher. Well then, it's settled!
In the evening Ed resumes his weekly bike rides. I never could keep up with him in cycling, but I do think back to what my PT person asked -- what physical activity goals do you want to set for yourself? I was stumped. He pushed me on this -- were you not able to do something before the surgery that you would like to be able to do after recovery? I had to laugh: get up off the floor with ease! Or, is that aiming too high?!
Ed comes home, we eat supper, he puts away... six chickens. We lost the seventh, Henny today. Good old green egg laying Henny. She's been with us for years, so you could say she lived a good, long life. But still, we're left wondering who went after her and when. You dont want this to be the first in a string of chicken raids. We remind ourselves that we'll have to be still more vigilant in the coming days, even though right now, we are feeling tired to the bone -- Ed from the reintroduction of bike riding, me from the introduction of new bones, or joints, or whatever it is that I have in that sore left leg of mine.
With love...
