November Saturday

Each day puts before us something good, something special. Something sweet and charming. Something to relish, appreciate, feel humbled by. However, some days bring more of all that than other days. Yesterday's sunshine pulled us out of our cocoon and had us zipping along the bike trail with enthusiasm. The lake, the trees, the wildlife, the fading sun, and eventually the full moon --- they were all thrilling! It didn't matter that the coffee shop had run out of foods to sell, and that I had to settle for a yogurt to accompany my afternoon coffee. It didn't matter that I had had a blinding eye doc visit earlier. The day felt full and fabulous.

Then came this day. Saturday. Gray and cold and windy. I hadn't slept well. Why? Because I have a foot infection and it was bugging me no end. In the middle of the night I decided it needed a good soak. It helped, but believe me, once you sit up soaking a foot at 3 a.m., you're not going to quickly fall asleep after. Ed thought I should go see a doc. If Ed thought that, then it must be really bad, no? So I told myself -- first thing in the morning. I'll pay Urgent Care a visit.

And of course, it just had to be a very cold and dreary morning.

We eat breakfast. Ed asks why I wasn't at Urgent Care. Because when I called, they said it's close to a two hour wait. And that maybe in the afternoon things may loosen up.

 

 

We stay indoors the whole morning, but by lunchtime, we are both getting restless. Can you walk? -- he asks me. Sure, if I can find a pair of shoes that wont kill me.

We set out, me in my gardening clogs. 

It's not a long drive -- maybe 7 minutes to our local county park. We pass a field of sandhill cranes. Here, you can see some of these graceful creatures at the side of the road: 

Ed and I had just heard on the news that hunters are angling to get permission to hunt them again. The cranes had been scarce, but their population has swelled recently so that they aren't endangered any more. At the moment. The argument put forth is the usual one -- they destroy some portion of a farmer's crop.

This seems absurd to us: we see the cranes in harvested cornfields, where they peck away at fallen kernels. No way could these birds swoop down on a field of growing corn and chomp away at full ears! And so what damage could they possibly be doing? And if you hunt one down, what are you going to do with it? Pluck the feathers and eat a roasted crane for dinner? 

I hope none of this comes to pass. 

We walk our favorite trail. It is so windy that I almost suggest we turn back, but we do not turn back. Once out of that comfy house, we are not going to let go of this walk!

And it revives us. By the end, we dont care about the wind, about the cold. The air smells lovely -- full of those scents of spent fallen leaves, of late autumn. It's so satisfying to be there among the tall grasses, walking, climbing, feeling energized, feeling healthy!

But there is that infection, so I drop Ed off at the farmhouse and head out to Urgent Care, where of course the line of sick people has only grown. ("Dont worry," the receptionist tells me, "we separate the ones who are coughing and put them in a different waiting area!" Me and my foot are grateful.)

Two and a half hours later, just before the clinic closes, my doc comes in to see me. He takes one look, writes out a prescription  for an antibiotic and tells me to soak the foot as much as possible. Meaning, my 3 a.m. strategy was a good one. All that takes all of two minutes, so we chat a while after -- he's had such a long day! I tell him I'd like to be able to walk again by next weekend because I have a very special walk in mind. I explain it in great detail.

Hmmm, you're doing it in this weather? He has doubts. But then he sits back and closes his eyes, thinking back to another time: 30 years ago, he and his then new wife went for a honeymoon trip to Venice. It was November. It was cold. Wet. It was the most beautiful trip they'd ever taken. He tells me how someone handed him tickets to some small concert in some unfamiliar old church, to which they went by boat... He smiles. I'll have to take my wife to Venice in November again! It was an incredible time to be there. Thanks for the trip down memory lane...

As I left, I thought about this virtue that one can slap right onto November: the month is so awful, that no one wants to do anything nice during it. Crowded spaces empty out. You are suddenly immersed in scenery that is stripped of outsiders. It's just you in that forest, or on that Venetian canal. Me, I'm not going to Venice next weekend, but still, I'm going for a walk and I expect the weather will be not great and there will be few people and therein lies the beauty of it all: you have it to yourself -- everything out there, it's yours, while the world huddles inside, waiting for this awful weather to move on.

Something to look forward to. Only in November.