The Thaw used to mean setting up the ladder, hauling up the brush on a long rope & cleaning the chimney. Now my more modest home has a brief and manageable chimney pipe rather than a block chimney stretching three-plus stories upward. And a good thing, too. Climbing up the ladder to my porch roof to scrape what snow I can reach is interesting enough for a middle-aged amputee.
Mud, even frozen & snowy, makes for better walking than snow, which is still better than ice. But for a change, I'm thriving this winter. My newly replaced knee is painless and fully functional and has improved my mobility even in/especially in bad footing. I like to think I don't walk the way I did last year (like a lame cow in the mud) but I'm not sure. Still, I hope.
The best thing is my new energy. Maybe it's the returning light in the evenings (though I must say the mornings have been damn dark) but I feel this tug to move...to walk the length of my home for the umpteenth time rather than send my daughter to grab something for me...to go back to the horse shed in the dark on the frozen ground with half a bale of hay balanced on my right arm and shoulder...the kind of things I used to abdicate to a helper.
And my half-broke, half-written YA novel in verse? It's coming along. It won't be hurried, but it's taking shape. It was unimpressed by deadlines for NaNoWriMo or January first: it shrugged, snorted & went on its way...but it's still talking to me. I take dictation from it every day.
Another development is...developing. I will unveil it as soon as possible. I guess I feel so tired and jaded and cynical that I can only be mildly surprised when the work I've invested all these years sactually yields results. The good thing about being--well, I guess exhausted is the word I want--by my life is that I'm like my old pony Cupcake. She's going on 32, seen it all, done it all, and nothing much fazes her. The last time she shied was ten years ago at some pony club event when a kid jumped down out of a tree. I wasn't present & only heard the story. I wish I were more excited & less exhausted. But stay tuned.
My first therapist was exactly right: it's all The Wizard of Oz. We struggle to figure out the answer and stand dumbfounded at the realization salvation (the secular kind) was in our power all along. I think mostly there are no shortcuts. The long way is the only way.
Thanks for reading. Keep your fire wood dry, and don't forget to drain the hose after watering the animals. Till soon.