…once that number begins to creep higher there is much that cannot be ignored.
Yes, I am enjoying the freedom of retirement, the pursuit of my art, the pleasure of grandchildren, and finding new friendships with like-minded folks.
However, I am not enjoying the, now, full-in-my-face realization that my body is no longer young and middle-age is rapidly becoming just a memory. My bones and joints and tendons are rebelling against my insistence on continuing to labor in my flower and vegetable gardens. Even though I have modified how I go about certain tasks, those modifications are now taking a toll.
Yesterday morning’s weeding chores necessitated a trip to the ER with a very painful muscle injury resulting in a pinched nerve. Groan! Rest, heat, painkillers are the prescription for the next week.
But what about all those weeds? And the cucumber and kale plants that I’ve not gotten into the ground? And my lovely patio garden that is a work-in-progress and so there is much left to do there?
Yes, age is just a number. Mine is nearly 63. And besides all that garden work, there are 1,063 things I still want to do before the final number.
above image, Lady on Scooter, Old Town Mall, Winchester