When I was twenty, or twenty-one, I fell and twisted my ankle, or rather the top of my foot. Larry (my son's father) and I were play-wrestling, and we just landed wrong. We didn't know any better and foolishly soaked my foot in hot water that night. The next day it was swollen huge and very sore. Called for an ambulance (?!?) --I guess we thought it was broken, and anyway, we didn't have any way to get to the hospital other than by bus, and I couldn't walk-- and I remember the EMTs carried me down the narrow stairs sitting on a kitchen chair.
Now, many years later, every now and then the top of my foot rebels, hurts like hell, and I limp for a few days. I think it happens when I first start working in the yarden in the springtime, sitting on my heels, barefoot. Whatever causes it, I seem to try out an ace bandage on it every year, then realize that just makes it worse and take a pain killer instead. Eventually the soreness goes away and the limp with it.
Today, after two days of cold nights the temperature climbed back into the mid fifties and I again brought the potted plants from the stove room out to the back porch. Tomorrow we're supposed to get "severe" storms from 1PM to 6PM (according to weather.com's hour-by-hour forecast), so I may bring the pots inside one more time, or at least slide them further onto the porch, out of the rain.
Today Bob ran the tiller over the garden again --he makes it look so easy, just walking beside it with one hand on the handle, while whenever I till I fight it as if it's a jet ski and I'm keeping it from sinking-- while I dug roots and rocks out of the space south of the cellar and planted my asparagus rootstock there. Finally we have an asparagus bed! Hopefully tomorrow's storm watch is exaggerated and they won't be floating away mid-afternoon.
I also turned the entire compost pile and put a couple pieces of particle board up against the woodshed uprights, so I don't have to be quite so careful where I sling the compost when I'm turning it. Maybe this year I'll finally add some manure to the pile to make it really "cook." It's not really a compost pile at all without manure, is it?
I'm a hundred pages into a Rosamund Pilcher novel. I like her books as a change from my usual reading - whatever that is! Nothing much happens, life just goes on, quite interestingly and comfortingly. Conflicts get resolved. All is calm. Reading Pilcher is soothing.
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