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Bicycling

Category: gardening among the rocks | Posted: Tue May 20, 2008 5:04 pm

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Whew. OK, I'll admit it. I let things go over the winter. And the fall. And, OK, much of summer too. But lately I'm back to riding my bike again, even today. Today, when I discovered that someone moved my bike out of the garage to make space for the *gasp* car. And left it where it would get wet if it rained. It did and it did. So my tucas is wet, but I am unswayed.
After I had that lousy stroke in 99, and couldn't drive a car for several years due to eyes that refused to work together (and are both blind on the right side anyways) I started to ride my bike. It gave me some sense of control over my life. My goal was to work up to being able to ride to the little grocery store, just over a mile and one steep hill away. You'd have thought I'd landed a dismount on the moon the way I trumpeted when I was finally able to ride up that steep hill without pushing partway. From there I went on to further challenges until I could ride the 10+ mile round trip to the library and back, all while DD was in school for the day.
About two years into my riding I began experimenting with driving a bit, first to the end of the driveway, then the end of the road, then to the grade school. I'd park there and ride out on my bike. But as I became steadier driving, my eyes cooperating better, the problems I was having with bicycling began to be less tolerable. I was nearly swiped by cars a couple of times, a close call or two with a logging truck, a doggy that didn't take kindly to me, I gradually became discouraged with bicycling as a means of transportation, and decided my limited range of driving would have to do. I eventually stopped riding entirely . Problem was, my mood suffered from it. Perhaps as a side effect of the stroke, I don't know. But I was becoming pessimistic, and introspective, horribly negative at times. I was in a stalemate place where I was entirely too aware of the limitations and inabilities in my life. That, and flabby muscles, drove me to start cycling again.
I did have a brush with a logging truck this morning. But then I also came really close to a fat brown rabbit breakfasting on the roadside. Several swallows felt the need to inspect me as I passed the nest boxes placed on fenceposts by the local scout group. And even after writing all this, my bum is still wet.
It's all good.

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The sun paid a visit...

Category: gardening among the rocks | Posted: Tue May 06, 2008 2:59 pm

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And just in time, too. We had a couple of friends over for lunch- between them they have 4 little girls. Little girls plus a prairie full of wildflowers means parents clicking away like mad with their photo cameras. I'm hoping to get a pic of our little friends in the flowers, to do a painting (of course) but here's a bit of what they were playing among...

The wildflowers are so thick this year! every clump of prairie violets is so full of flowers... it's breathtaking. And as you can tell, the color and number of the rare-and-lovely shooting stars is amazing, we've been seeing about half this number of blooms per stem. Clearly, all the rain, rain, rain and late snows are doing something good.
It takes a bit of work to keep the invasive scotch broom off this place, but the payoff in spring is unbeatable!
For our prairie day, we printed out photos we'd taken of the flowers (I say "we" but it's all DH, he's the techy one!) and sent the girls on a "treasure hunt" to find and identify them. One little sweetie couldn't bring herself to pick the pretty flowers, but she won the treasure hunt anyway. It's so funny to see our place through new eyes. They all were enchanted by the little animals we have tucked away here and there; the goldfish in the three little ponds kept rising to the top to sun themselves eliciting squeals and giggles.
It felt a bit like that old sci-fi film, "all summer in a day", and it's back to chilly this morning, but I'm happy with it!

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Rain, an exercise in blank verse...

Category: gardening among the rocks | Posted: Fri May 02, 2008 5:49 pm

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The joyous, carefree child, May, awash in bitter tears,
Her locks hung with bedraggled blooms, bowing with their burden
Below the persistent, unyielding, relentless curtain.
Birds sing flat notes that beat the ground, unheeded and unheard,
Heavy-lidded eyes watch... and wait... and wonder ...


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