Diary of Not a Wimpy Widow

Tag: spring

  • Mid-Stream

    March 20, 2015

    On March 2nd, I had a total knee replacement of the right knee and now I am recuperating. I am doing quite well, or so my physical therapist and doctor tell me. I can do some things, but not others. I can walk without a walker or a cane inside the house. I do use my walking stick when I go outside, but I am limited as to where I can walk. My therapist worries about me walking on my lawn which is full of dips and bumps. I asked her the other day if I could go home and pick up sticks–it was a bright and beautiful day–but she shook her head no. Today I asked if I could climb on my stepladder to fill my bird feeders. No climbing, she said.

    And in truth, I have little energy to do much of anything. I come home from physical therapy–driven to and from by generous friends–and collapse into the LaFuma lounge chair where I can elevate my feet above my heart. From that vantage point I can look out the picture window to see all the sticks littering the lawn, and the birds sorting through the leaf litter in search of insect life. I think I have to accept being becalmed for a while, on this quiet island in the middle of the busy stream that is my life. And what better month to be caught mid-stream than the month of March, which is such a mix of winter and early spring? Fat wet snowflakes fell this morning on the snow-drops on the lawn.

    In time April will come and I will be stronger and will once more be wading in the waters of my life.

  • Easter Song

    April 20, 2014

    When we moved into the townhouse
     We exulted in our garden
         The earth called out to us
     And we replied

    We planted dwarf fruit trees in one corner
         And called it our orchard
         And in the center we planted a crabapple
     Whose purple blooms filled our spring

    And later at our house on the hill
         Barren from years of neglect
     We brought home in the trunk of our car
     Cherry, plum, and apple trees,
     Maple, magnolia, willow oak,
     Pear and crabapple

    We took turns wielding the spade,
     Tamping down the earth, watering,
     And then we waited

    Thirty-seven years later
         The fruit trees have withered and died
     But the crabapple by the well
     Stretches out its dark arms with purple blossoms

    And the pear tree exults above the little house

    And the maple
     And the willow oaks
     Unfold their tender leaves
         Lift up their arms to the sky
     Singing Hallelujah

    And in the chorus
     I hear your voice

    Hallelujah!