Tag Archives: spring

Mid-Stream

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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

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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!