Monday, October 31, 2011

PROGRESS


Yesterday we spent the entire day loading, hauling, splitting, and stacking firewood. The fact that Myladylove and I are temporarily semi-crippled, beat, battered, sore and aching in places we'd forgot we had—doesn't override the satisfaction of the work completed. Yes, we gimp…but we gimp smugly. 

We're not through with out wood chores, however. There are still several pickup loads of wood remaining to be hauled down from the neighbor's yard. Plus a lot of big stuff yet to split. Nevertheless, yesterday's endeavors made a big and satisfying dent in the project. 

Moon remains on the mend. She seems a bit worn out today—probably from too many hours outside yesterday supervising our labors, along with too much time rolling in the leaves, and several protracted sessions of tail-wagging welcome when Everitt—the neighbor who gave us the great supply of wood—walked down to see how were were doing. 

Autumn continues to advance, of course. Most of the leaves are now down, though a few reluctant sycamore leaves still cling to the trees along the river. Too, there are hackberries whose leaves remain surprisingly green and intact. Frost night before last got my zinnias and canna lilies, but one of the roses is still decorated with bight red blooms and the marigolds gleam a brilliant orange. Sometime during the next couple of days, I'll have to dig those canna lily roots up and store them away until next spring.

Another task, on a list which seems endless. Yesterday morning, before we started on the wood, I rewired one of the baseboard heaters in the great room. Now it looks like I'm going to have to pull up and replace the bathroom floor thanks to a leaky toilet. And I'm hoping to get a woodstove in before the end of the month…though I've have to build a hearth first. Still, things do get done, jobs completed. Progress is somehow managed, in spite of sore backs, aching muscles, and a paucity of available cash. 

Now, I believe I'll crawl down the hall and look for that TO DO list….  
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10 comments:

Arija said...

Grizz, I am so glad that your darling Moon is on the mend and commiserate with his past suffering. I too had a gall bladder removed some time ago. Not much fun.
Talk about aching joints, limbs, muscles! We are hobbling about like two old crocks at the moment, his knee and my hip are screaming a duet. We have been having some very changeable weather lately.
Your fall colours are a dream.
Sorry I have not been around lately, a bit of trauma in the family with my last remaining sibling, my sister, undergoing brain surgery 800km away and me taking the train over there and leaving my dementia suffering other on his own for a few days.
The grandchildren were brick looking out for him but the situation was far from ideal.

Enjoy your lovely fall and wood splitting even with the accompanying aches and pains.

Jain said...

"Yes, we gimp…but we gimp smugly."
Ha! I laughed out loud at this!

A good thing about a worn out dog is that she'll sleep like a log. It sounds as if you and Your Ladylove will, too. Sweet dreams.

Robin said...

You make me smile. You sound achy, but content. Scratch that dog for me....

KGMom said...

I love it--gimping smugly. Perfect.
And as bodies age, the gimping will increase. I just hope you can maintain the smug part.

Grizz………… said...

Arija…

I'm glad Moon is mending, too—and you're right, I've known friends who had gall bladder surgery and it definitely wasn't all that much fun…before, during, or after.

Sounds like you've been having a rough patch recently. I wish I could help somehow, as I've been in those near-overwhelming situations myself. But it also sounds like you're making the best of things, which is always the most any of us can do. There are times when victory in out of the question, and giving up not an option—so all we can do is plod along, head down, shoulders in the harness, aimed more-or-less at whatever glimmer of future we see ahead. And if possible, we do our best to enjoy the scenery along this unexpected and unwanted life detour.

Take care. Be well. Stop by for a visit whenever you can…you're always welcome. You'll be in my thoughts.

Grizz………… said...

Jain…

Not only did Moon sleep like a log, we smugly gimping wood splitters dragged ourselves off to bed soon after sunset and supper yesterday evening (hence these late comment replies) and emulated our wise dog. I can't say I feel much better after twice the usual allotment of sleep…but I don't feel any worse. As soon as I finish here I'm going to resume the firewood fun while Myladlove goes off to work for a half day; when she returns, we'll try and get another big chunk of log-splitting/stacking accomplished or, if backs and muscles protest too much, start tearing up the bathroom floor and install a new seal on the toilet. A fun day either way, huh?

Grizz………… said...

Robin…

Achy? More like grievous bodily pain and suffering…but, yeah, content, too; every split of firewood that goes into the stack represents that much more delicious radiant heat to soothe my decrepit body when temperatures plummet and sleet rattles like buckshot against the windowpanes. Nothing ameliorates a cold winter's night better than a warm hearthfire.

Moon-the-Dog has, per request, been scratched.

Grizz………… said...

KGMom…

Yes, indeed…the ration of gimping-to-gliding days increase with age—and reckless abuse speeds the process. But I'll try and be smug so long as I'm more or less vertical instead of horizontal. No use allowing life to think it has you on the run…

The Weaver of Grass said...

So glad Moon continues to improve.

We have a saying here in the UK that wood warms you three times - once when you chop the tree down, once when you saw the logs up and once when you burn them. In the case of larch and poplar you can make that four times - the fourth time is dashing about the room stamping out the sparks that fly. So if there is any poplar or larch in your logs, get that stove in quickly Grizz.

Grizz………… said...

Weaver…

I've heard the same saying, too. And it's true, though in my case I didn't cut down the tree, or saw it onto firelength chunks. But I did load it into the truck, cart it down to the house, unload, split, and stack—each job cranking up the metabolism. And equally important, forging a direct link between the land outside and my home inside…earth, water, sunshine, seed, seedling, tree, log, firewood, fire, heat. I like that a lot.

Thank you re. Moon.