Wednesday, October 7, 2015
The Light Is So Beautiful Today
I just got back from my first walk in weeks. Between babies and birthdays and weather and I-don't-even-know-what, I just have not been walking. Which, for me, is quite odd and unusual. For decades, I have been a walker. I ran in my twenties and came to realize that running was not for me but that walking most definitely was and I figure I walked between two-and-a-half and three miles at least three times a week for forever and ever.
Also, for decades I did at least a hundred crunches a day. Not that I ever had a flat stomach ever in my life, not once, trust me, but it made me feel good. And whenever anyone complained of lower back pain (which is one of the few pains I have never really suffered) I was smug.
"Gotta keep that core strong!" I may have said. Or at least thought.
Somehow, I quit doing those crunches. Maybe it was those years I was doing yoga because I figured my core was getting a good strengthening there. But still, I walked.
And suddenly, now, I AM having lower back pain. It's nasty and nagging. And I'm pretty sure I have at least a light case of the sciatica as there is deep burning pain in the right area of my ass. Is there a wrong area of the ass to have burning pain? You know what I mean.
In short, I'm falling afuckingpart and although it never seemed as if my walking, my crunches were doing much good as I am almost always in pain, I now see that there are other levels of pain which perhaps I WAS avoiding with my exercise.
And of course, it is so good for the mind, the heart, the soul.
So today I did my crunches and my stretches and then I walked my walk. It was painful.
But it is beautiful out there right now. It is the season of purple and yellow and golden wild flowers. The bees are still getting busy in the blossoms, the air is cooler, today it is clear and the sky is blue and Lloyd is a fine place to walk.
I have been suspecting for a week or so that we are getting new neighbors next door. Our old neighbors moved to California and the house has been empty for years but suddenly, there is activity there and today I noticed orange tape tied around several trees, a new wicker chair and tables on the front porch, and a brand new mailbox sunk firmly into the ground. I have not yet spied a person but cars are in the driveway. I am so glad to know that someone has bought the house but of course I hope they are good people, friendly people. I think I'll make a cake and take it over when I am sure they've moved in although these days, one never knows.
Are they gluten-free? Sugar-free? Vegans?
Ah well. It is always the thought that counts, right?
And Papa Jay's is closed and shut. The signs are gone. There are no chairs in front of the store, the ice machine has disappeared. As excited as I was for the store to open, I am not sad to see it close. There was something about Papa Jay's vibe that disturbed me. The way he always told us to "have a blessed day," while on his $30,000 pick-up truck there was a bumper sticker that said "No Ass, No Gas."
And so it goes here. The seasons change and those are reflected in the wildflowers, the feel of the air, that which grows in the garden. The giant lady spiders are gone, their webs becoming tattered remnants. Businesses come and they go. Neighbors, too, sometimes.
Fall holds melancholy, even as it holds gold and purple glory. The body holds pain, even as it holds joy and contentment.
And there are the constants, too. The chickens scratching in the fallen pecan leaves, busy as always, Camellia's every-other-day, pale green egg which I find in the pump house. The need to do laundry and shopping and cooking.
The love, if you are lucky.
And I am.