Everyone has their genius (and their weak points). This was Ed's mantra when I first met him and though I hesitated in embracing it, having in my life come across a handful of people that seemed to demonstrate a visible absence of genius in life's most basic requirements (that we all should live together in harmony), eventually I came around. Well concealed, untapped genius is still genius, right?
Today, as I let David's second assistant PT person test my knee this way and that, when the verdict was out (superb bend! extraordinary! Totally unchanged straight extension. Work on it!), I thought to myself -- maybe my genius is that I am more of a twister and bender, rather than towing the straight path ahead kind of a person. I did tell her that I thought I did plenty of stuff that was boring and straight, to which she responded -- perhaps you are doing too much of the everyday. You know you're only two weeks out after surgery. Then she adds two more exercises to my list of now 15, to be done at least 2-3 times each day. Seems that isn't inline with the recommendation to slow down! Too, I'm two weeks and two days after surgery. Humph.
So, going forward -- more of the boring exercise, less of the fun everyday. I would have exactly flipped that equation. Medical people are funny.
All this knee discussion happened after a very slow morning. I seem to be incapable of jumping into the swing of things right away. The day is gray. I'm hoping for rain. Spring rains are so important for early plant growth! I step outside: oh, those May landscapes are outstanding!
Breakfast on the porch. Ed had purchased a small apple galette at the market yesterday. We are both pretty snobbish when it comes to pies and this one isn't especially excellent, but it's solid good and a nice change for breakfast. (Outside, on the porch.)
After this comes PT and after that we have a raccoon issue and, on a way more interesting platform -- we have a plant replacement trip before us. The chickens this year have attacked the pots, loving the soil mix I used to put in annuals. The result? Not good! Broken young flowers. Darn chickens! I need a handful of new flowers. Do this again, cheepers and I'm going to cut back on your corn treats!
(Back to Natalies, and Kopke's; Natalie's is simple, Kopke's is extravagant, we like them both)
In line with the PT's guidelines, I return home to take nap. (Snowdrop is with other grandparents this afternoon.)
Later, much later, I work outside. Admittedly, this is not easy. Your body adjusts to the new (temporary!) incapacities. That means you contort yourself in ways that are strange and not altogether welcome. Still, I plant the new additions and pull some weeds. All this in the fragrance of the blooming lilac.
This is the time of the year when I do like our exploding shade ferns. A dozen years back I put one into the ground. They multiplied. We now have more than I care to count. To me they look beautiful, really beautiful only in the first weeks of May.
And as I pick a handful of the emerging lilies-of-the-valley (putting them into the little vase that I use only now, first on violets, then on the white lily stems), I think how orderly the progression of blooms is! The tulips are in full swing, but not for long now. Almost done.
The lilies of the valley will be followed by irises and those will then be replaced by my peonies. Predictable yes, but no less beautiful each year.
I'll leave you with one more photo of the magnificent crabapple that's shedding petals as we speak. Ephemeral, splendid.
Loved for its beauty. Simple, yet wild.
