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Today is supposed to reach 50˚F and tomorrow 60˚F, so even the remaining snow daubs will soon be gone. And with any luck, we'll have seen our final ground-covering snowfall of this version of winter. Which suits me fine and dandy. I'm ready for spring. It's my favorite of all the seasons.
I love the energy—the message!—of spring: reawakening, renewal, resurrection. Spring speaks of life and hope, dreams and faith. Spring rekindles the fire in my mind and body and soul. The shot (above) of yesterday's strong afternoon sunlight pouring through a clump of yellow crocus on the hill, their petals glowing like stained glass—while not much of an image composition-wise—did capture for me the spirit of that coming spring. In both photo and spring itself, there's always vernal magic abounding—which is something I will welcome with open arms.
It has, frankly, been one of those weeks. Myladylove has been semi-down with some viral bug. Dizzyness, aching, low-grade temperature. She needed bed rest, sleep, care. But sheer bullheadedness saw her dragging herself off to work every day, in spite of how awful she looked and felt. Mind you, I understand this attitude, being of a similar obstinate nature…though it doesn't make such foolish and self-harming stubbornness any easier to watch. She kept herself "pumped up" on the job via antibiotics and pain relievers, but would practically collapse when she got home. I did all I could.
On top of this there have been doctor's appointments for her, various business meetings for me, columns to write, emails, and the usual mundane essentials such as grocery shopping, washing, cooking, keeping the woodstove going, taking Moon-the-Dog out for brief rambles, and prescription pick-ups just in case there was a miracle drug which would either alleviate Myladylove's symptoms, or temporarily suppress her mule-headedness and allow me to persuade her to stay home a day or two and get some much-needed recuperative rest.
On top of all this, I'm scheduled to have a colonoscopy Tuesday (oh boy!) so I've been trying to get a bit ahead on the things I usually do early in the week, plugging frenetically onward. So yeah, I can definitely use that dose of vernal magic.
8 comments:
HI GRIZZ- beautiful pictures of nature's promises. Spring is on her way. We had over 8" of snow yesterday and lost power most of the day. Today? We are headed out w/Gracie -Blue to let her run in the woods. I will park on the woods edge while Skipp treks in a ways - then we will go to a 'side-of-the-road- eatery for burgers. Yesterday we were snowed in!!
Sorry about your Lady-Love being ill and still in insisting on working daily.I must say, I am happy not to have to put that pressure on myself. Oh don't get me wrong - I wish with all I have that I was able to still work but I don't miss that feeling of obligation and "have-to" that I, like your Lady-Love was bound to as my work ethic too. Silly gals, huh>?
I recall the last colonoscopy you had that you couldn't tolerate the anesthesia!! But you let them do it anyways, GOOD LORD!!! The last one I had, I cried all the way to the clinic, cried all the way being wheeled in to the procedure and cried right until i drifted off. As in bawling-sobbing-loudly, nose running, shoulders heaving!!!!! I am a real baby!! I will be praying for you....you are way braver then I....
Well, we are going to get going here - love to you and yours
Gail
peace....
I'm sorry your beloved isn't feeling well. As a teacher, I understand the feeling that you must be at work no matter how horrid you feel. Sometimes, it's just easier to drag myself in than it is to try to arrange for a substitute teacher to take over the room.
I'm always conflicted about spring. It is lovely, and the rapid changes make it really easy to find something to write about, but it also means....summer is coming. I hate summer weather here in Texas, so spring just feels like a prelude.
Gail…
It was a lovely day here—bright sun, 52˚F. Couldn't have asked for more. Hope your outing—dog walking, burgers, and all—went great. I know you need some days out.
Myladylove is still in pretty bad shape—and of course, she worked a half day, until nearly 2:00 p.m. But Saturdays are always super busy, and she feels responsible to her employees to be there with them and help. I understand that, but I wish she could take time to get herself well. At least she has tomorrow.
I'm hoping this colonoscopy turns out okay. Don't want to have to do it again in a year…but in the scheme of things, it's nothing compared to the possible consequences of not keeping tabs. Really, doing that last one without anesthesia was easy. This time, there's no issue so I will have an anesthetic, which will be more of a full "lights out" sort" rather than the old-style "twilight" sleep. I kinda got a kick when the nurse told me the anesthetic they'll use is propofol (plus something else) which you might remember was the drug that did in Michael Jackson. Naturally, I couldn't leave that alone and said propofol would be peachy so long as Conrad Murrary wasn't the one administering and monitoring…which prompted a long blank look on her part as she took a minute to work it out. But I can assure you, ain't happenin' on my south forty if the anesthesiologist waltzes in wearing a prison-orange jump suit.
Joy K.…
Thank you. The truth is, we're both pigheaded about working sick when we should be in bed getting well. Before taking this management job a couple of years ago, Myladylove worked in finance setting up loans and various financial documents for customers. In the 14 years she spent there, I believe she missed exactly a half day, and that only when all her staff gathered at her desk—where she was slumped, face down, in full-blown flu-ravaged awfulness—and en mass insisted she leave immediately or else they intended to call 911 and possibly the coroner. She reluctantly minded them…and only marginally better the following day, dragged herself back to work.
I once came home about 9:00 p.m. with the flu and 102 degree temperature, after a week on a press tour circling all of Pennsylvania, drove from the airport to the house, spent a couple of hours packing my pickup and sorting slides, drove all night, 400 miles, to North Carolina, and at 8:30 a.m.—still enjoying my 102 temp—did an all-day photo workshop class I was teaching in the Smokies, followed by an evening slide presentation at the lodge for several hundred folks, finally got into bed about midnight, and was up before daylight for a sunrise shoot with my workshop participants. And I did pretty much the same routine—sunrise field shoot, morning class, afternoon field trip, short break, then sunset field trip and in bed somewhere around midnight—for the full week. My temperature never measured below 101˚s. I did rest over the weekend, but had to drive home Sunday night—400 miles—because I was leaving for a Michigan assignment Monday morning. That's just one example of my health bullheadedness. There are many others. So I'm pretty much the pot calling the kettle black here.
Hey, I'm with you re. summer…summer is my least favorite of the seasons. I like some things about it, but I despise hot weather. I'd always rather be cold than hot. So for me, it's spring, autumn, winter THEN summer.
What is it about colonoscopies, lately? I think it has to do with being part of the baby boomers.
There is an ad running on WGN-radio that starts with a frantic muzak-sort of disco beat. The voiceover says that if you've danced to that beat you're probably due for a colonoscopy, but DON'T FREAK OUT, it's not that bad.
No, it's not but who wants to equate some of the absolute joys of their youth with their 'south forty'... as you so eloquently put it?
Getting old sucks. Your words and pictures make it better. Thank you.
Tell that woman of yours to get better and pet the dog for me.
I'm headed for fiber before bed.
Robin…
You're probably right…we Boomers are the demographic whose time has come—drug, disease, and procedure gold mines so far as the health care industry is concerned. Geezers ripe for plucking. Though no one looking to sell or induce me to do something will ever have any luck tying such desire to backgrounded disco.
I positively loathed disco and the whole Saturday Night Fever, bell-bottoms, bean-sprout, barefoot, tie-dyed, Mod and Paisley, San Francisco flower-in-your-hair, waterbed and Electric Kool-Aid movement, era, and music. I wouldn't have gone to Woodstock if you'd have paid me. Gag me with a stick! (Okay, I liked the Bee Gees, Mamas and Papas, and Carpenters, among a few—though I only ever bought one Carpenters 45 and nothing from the other two.) And yeah, all my friends back then thought I lacked musical and cultural taste, plus compared to them, I dressed funny. But while I liked some of British invasion stuff—still do—I also liked classic rock-and-roll (D.A.s, pegged pants, poodle-skirts, '57 Chevies, etc.) even though I'd not yet entered grade school when Elvis blew the world apart. I remember the folk scene, too—hootenannies and beat poets, those old acoustic trios and quartets suddenly rediscovering and trying to play a lot of the familiar music my parents and people had been singing and playing for a hundred years.
The truth is, from about 1967 on, Rock, and Pop and Yours Truly pretty much parted ways. I kept listening to—also bought—the old classics, rock & roll, doo-wop, stayed with folk, got into country and bluegrass, Celtic, ragtime and Dixieland jazz, big bands and saloon singers, Motown, and (gasp!) classical. I've always liked lots of individual singers, stylistic soloists who can just stand up there with only minimal accompaniment, take a good tune and make it their own. Because I played guitar, I listened to a lot of guitar music and players—everything from Merle Travis to the Ventures to Segovia. Gospel—both black gospel and Southern gospel—was always a part Then, when I later switched to piano, I listened to lots of piano players—from Floyd Cramer to Fats Waller, Dr. John, Arthur Rubinstein. Then New Age, Space Music, world music, R. Carlos Nakai, etc.…and while my music horizons expanded, three notes from KC and the Sunshine Band still had me looking for a place to hurl. Nor has additional age kicked in some nostalgia gene for ol' KC and his contemporary's genre of music.
(You know what? I believe my enforced liquid "clear" diet has caused me to become a bit cranky, and less than diplomatic. Well, I'm getting hungry. Chicken broth from a cardboard box does not constitute either breakfast or food. I'm turning into a testy bear. Sorry. I'm probably being offensive. Barry White and Donna Summer were doubtless simply too chic for my musically bourgeois grasp. I apologize. It's hard to be objective when you're starving. Myladylove is still sick—and naturally, went to work; telling her much of anything is generally counterproductive. I sipped my slop-in-a-box and stayed mum. I did pet the dog, who's had her kibbles, canned food, and several doggy treats…which, I might add, look pretty tasty, but (dang it!) aren't on my "Can Eat" list. Lucky me, I'm having Jello for lunch, lemon, since I can't eat anything red, either. And possibly more nasty broth which I'm going to gussy up with every herb and seasoning I can pass through a sieve. Later I'll start imbibing my gallon of gloppy, chalky, vile gastro-mix. Oh boy! Did I mention that I hate boxed broth and am perishing from undernourishment? Am I starting to repeat myself? I should go now, huh?)
How quickly these seasons come and pass now! Increasingly, I feel that I am witnessing the days like pages being rapidly scrolled through on my computer. Time may be constant, but it seems variable at this point in my life.
Good luck on tomorrow's procedure. As I'm sure you're aware, the worst part is the swill one has to drink in preparation for the main event. That said, there are few days more pleasurable than the day after a colonoscopy. It's a good thing to have behind you (no pun intended).
George…
How quickly, indeed. I well remember when seasons stretched endlessly, when months lasted practically forever, weeks scrawled along, and days were empty vessels with inviting hollows…back when time took real planning to fill and there was always enough left over that good dreams could be savored and accommodated.
In all honesty, I've had real problems choking down the first half of the liquid this evening, so starting anew at 5:00a.m. is bound to be worse, and I'm definitely not looking forward to it. Life isn't always pleasant—especially when it comes to drinking colonoscopy prep. But on the whole, a little unpleasantness is a small price to pay.
Thank you; your comments are much appreciated.
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