Arthritis is a bitch. For the last few years I’ve juggled exercises, salves, injections and pain meds, timing each according to occasions, vacations, and the weather. “Bad knees” run in the family. Sooner or later a knee replacement is likely, but I’m not in a hurry.
While I don’t plan on an extended work session this morning, a little garden cleanup is irresistible . Not because I should do it, but because of how much I enjoy doing it. I have to set a timer so that the price in aches and pains doesn’t get too high.
Few things are as rewarding to me as digging in the dirt, attacking the weeds and encouraging the herbs and flowers that I’ve planted and that, so far, the deer have not destroyed. No-work chives are usually are the first to make it onto our plates. I only have room for one rhubarb plant, so I augment from the market, but I can’t give up on it.
Tiny flowers are emerging from last fall’s leaves and debris, while the hyacinth I rescued from a gift pot of mixed bulbs is showing promise.
I have a special fondness for this tiny daffodil:
It’s been a rough winter. Signs of life in the garden will help me keep faith and keep going.
I appreciate your comments and photos! And empathize with the pains and the joys.
Keep the faith!