Saturday, April 16, 2011

FOGGY MORNING RETURN


There's fog along the river this morning—not a lot, but enough to make everything soft and indistinct. The vernal world seen through a misty veil. The forecast says a fifty percent chance of rain. Seeing as how there was a light shower moving through when I got up several hours ago, I say it's already one-hundred percent, though the weather pundits declare such matters in mysterious ways, bending words and definitions into meanings I've yet to figure out. 

Tomorrow is supposed to be partially sunny, then showers for the all of next week. The wildflowers and burgeoning greenery, certainly the toads, peepers and their kin now calling from the bogs and backwaters, will doubtless appreciate the long drink. Personally, I wish it would hold off a bit as I'm just now easing back into the swing of things, outdoorwise. After more than a month of severe pain that ratcheted up and down by the hour, wrecking my sleep and ability to rest, turned typical two-hour writing stints into all-day ordeals, and worst of all, kept me from getting out and about to explore the wondrous progression of my favorite of all seasons—and the reason I finally had to take a hiatus from blogging—finally…finally!…I seem to be getting better. 

Heretofore I've managed—by gritting my teeth and popping pain pills, and usually sweating bullets as I tried to keep my mind focused on the task at hand—to keep up on meetings, work, doctor appointments, and necessary errands. With only a couple of exceptions, I mostly pulled it off…though just barely. But attempting any fun things beyond an expedition to the rocking chair on the deck or the side yard flower beds, was out of the question. Yesterday, however, I was able to get out and poke along one of my favorite nearby trails, enjoy the wildflowers, make a handful of photos. I didn't have the energy for more than an hour, but at this point I'll take whatever I can get—and the best part is that I didn't pay an excruciating penalty afterwards.

I've missed posting, missed your comments and conversation—missed sharing my little corner of the world during this most glorious time of year. Consider this my foggy morning return…and yeah, it sounds like the title of a bluegrass tune. 
———————

16 comments:

Bonnie said...

Welcome back. Sorry to hear that you have continued to be in so much pain. It really colors every aspect of a life doesn't it?

Last week after physio I felt better than ever. There was still pain but I had SO much more mobility with a lesser degree of painful intrusions. Today, after physio yesterday, every muscle the physiotherapist/osteopath manipulated is screaming and burning in protest. Like you, it affected my sleep and you need your 7 or 8 hours to meet the pain with some level of endurance and grace - or so I find.

Just took two motrin and am going to crawl back into bed with a stack of books. I'm actually hoping I do very little reading and a lot of sleeping.

I take some comfort that you are feeling better - for you - and for my future prospects. Take care and don't 'over do'. Your fabulous shots from around the riverbank have been missed!

The Weaver of Grass said...

Love your foggy morning return Grizz and do hope that the worst is now behind you. Don't go doing mad things in the garden - just sit on your deck and enjoy the view which always seems magnificent.

Gail said...

HI GRIZZ-

Good to see you and I love picture. I so am intrigued by a foggy misty veil through which the world looks so subdued, almost illusive. The mystery of it all I find so inspiring.

I am sorry to hear of your debilitating aches and pains. SO 'seeing' you today is even more of a welcomed gift. I hope you continue to feel better and are able to enjoy the beauty of Spring.
Love to you
Gail
peace.....

George said...

Welcome back, Grizz. I'm just returning from a break myself. Having been away a few weeks, I'm not sure what is ailing you, but I wish you the very best and hope that you will be feeling better with each passing day. If you are able to get out and about in the nascent days spring, you are undoubtedly on the mend.

The weather is a bit daunting today on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. We have been told to tie everything down and expect high winds and large hail stones.

Beautiful shot of the fog hovering about your river. Following the seasonal changes in your neck of the woods is always a pleasure. Have a great weekend!

sage said...

I hope you get better soon--the spring time has so much to explore and, are there any trout in that there river?

giggles said...

Thoghts are with you.... Hope you remain on the healing track... Do you have a diagnosis? And you must just wait it out? I feel for ya.... Take good care.

Julie Baumlisberger said...

Nice to have you back, Grizz!

Tramp said...

Griz, ease into it slowly and enjoy it. We out here wouldn't want to think of you overdoing it.
I often feel the frustration of having had to slow down, but it has it's advantages. Since the serious back problems last year I get tired much quicker; but when I accept it, it can be quite pleasant. I have found that when I am tired it is the time to stand (or sit) back and go over what I have encountered and revel in it. Before, I didn't make time for that.
The snag to this is that I can be too obstinate to accept that I am tired.
...Tramp

Grizz………… said...

Bonnie…

Chronic pain, even if less than an acute pain, will slowly wear you down—the old Chinese water torture deal. In my case I'd be pretty good one day, or for a few hours, then awful…and worse when horizontal than vertical—though sitting wasn't all that good, either. I finally just got exhausted and depressed because of the up-and-down business.

But I've been fairly pain-free (in my rather masochistic subjective view) for a week, am finally getting some rest, feel my energy returning, and am claiming victory.

I hope you heal and get over your long process, too.

Grizz………… said...

Weaver…

I hope so, too. I'll sit a bit, but I'm itching to start putting out some plants and getting yard work, etc. done—that's like therapy. I've had my fill of sitting.

I'll do my best, though. ;-)

Grizz………… said...

Gail…

I've always loved fog…the look and mystery of it is so intriguing, like the setting from a good British mystery or one of those monster pictures I loved as a kid.

I think I'm going to be okay from here on out, as this is the best week I've had by a long shot for over a month.

You take care of yourself! (And I'll try and be good. )

Grizz………… said...

George…

Hey, it's good to hear from you, my friend. I was going to write and see if life's peculiarities had caused you to go on sabbatical or just hole up in a dark corner of your library.

The promised rain has sprinkled lightly all day, and it's damp and cool—but otherwise not too bad. Saw a yellow-throated warbler at the feeder earlier, which makes it a good day regardless of weather.

I'm getting better, and by the time this rain period ends—maybe about the end of the coming week, if weather predictions are to be believed—I'll be really ready to get out and do some serious photography.

Grizz………… said...

Sage…

Thank you…and yeah, I for sure don't want to miss a moment more of spring than I have to. I love the period between mid-April and late-May more than any other time of the year.

No, drat it…no trout. But lots of smallmouth which I take on flies. Days like today I think of all those Michigan rivers I've fished and loved so dearly, and I wonder what's hatching and how the trout are rising. I've fished over a lot of the world, for a fair number of the most notable species—but given the choice, I'd rather be on some tannin stained U.P. stream, back in the jackpines, chasing brookies.

Grizz………… said...

Giggles…

Hey, we he-man types just grit our teeth and laugh at pain. Okay, sometimes we curl up and whimper. But I'm on the mend, finally and will likely survive. I think.

Seriously, I'm mending. Thank you.…

Grizz………… said...

Julie…

Even nicer to be back, I assure you. I've missed blogging. (Dear God! Did I just admit to that?)

Thank you…

Grizz………… said...

Tramp…

You are absolutely right. These things can be a blessing in disguise. I know that, and have been taught that lesson more than a few times.

But…it's the obstinate part that still trips me up. In my younger days, the way I survived was to bull my way past everything that wanted to kill me. And I mean that quite literally. Having spent years doing just that, to now reverse my approach—logic aside—is tough. After all, you're dealing with a hard-headed Irishman who's as independent as they come.

But…I'm trying. Recognition and reconciliation of reality is tough…