The baby chicks are huddled up in their little house in the coop and the last of the Bradford Pear blossoms have drifted to the ground and the leaves from the oaks which hung on so tenaciously all winter are whirling down in spirals as the new green takes their place.
I went out to weed some more but even as I did it, I knew I was consigning myself to another night of discomfort and that took the joy out of it. It was pain and not pleasure. My whole body aches, each finger joint, hip joint, muscle ache a reminder of some insult I have suffered. Falls and overuse and the carrying of burdens. Some of them physical, some of them probably not.
I keep making lists in my head of all the things I need to do and haven't done. The CEU's for the nursing license, the appointment with an optometrist, the garden I need to get planted, the limbs and branches fallen and dead, waiting for me to pick up and take to the burn pile. The flower beds that need tidying and weeding. The house that needs a good cleaning- or any cleaning at all.
None of it. I do none of it.
I make soup and listen to the wind and just ache and hope that tomorrow is better.
Here's two pictures of the old graveyard in the woods I pass on my walk sometimes. Somehow, it feels fitting this evening.