The Autodidact

My neighbor picks me up to take me to my chiropractor's office. All the way, I am telling myself it's a mistake, there's no way I can walk home, my back is too stiff today; I should have cancelled the appointment and stayed home. We can hardly see the road because the rain is pouring so hard. I'm in and out pretty quickly and the downpour has abated to a steady, persistent rain. One foot in front of the other, I tell myself. Take it slowly. You can do this. Not much traffic during this mid-morning walk. Going against my inner nature to walk as fast as I can, I stroll out of the business area of the town, and I notice all the flowers in the front yards. Everything is green and fresh, eagerly soaking up the much needed water. I can see the houses up close and I notice details that I never see when driving. The fire truck drives by and pulls into the fire station. A woman sits on her porch, sipping coffee, enjoying the quiet and the rain. I turn down a side street and thun

It's been 12 days since I hurt my back (again). Days of steroids, pain killers and muscle relaxers, and not being able to anything but pace the house or lie flat on my back (no sitting allowed!). I confess, I gave into feelings of despair, and uselessness. I had gobs of energy (except for that back pain) but no way to use it. Sigh. I am not a very patient person, and from time to time my back forces me into inactivity. Thankfully, my back has started to heal and I felt well enough to enjoy a lovely summer day with my family. Yesterday was a perfect day: sunshine and breezes and a walk to the creek. Jay was able to get home early enough to take us to the pool for an after dinner swim. I was not up to getting in the water, but thoroughly enjoyed watching the kids play with their dad, while I chatted with my two oldest kids who were working at the pool last night. And I realized that we were all together, in the same place. Those days are few now, but when they do happen, I am thankfu

My husband loves to garden. He would love to move out to the country, have a huge garden and maybe some chickens, and perhaps a cow. But we are planted in the city, so to speak, and he manages to grow a nice variety of vegetables. Every February, he pores over seed catalogs and dreams of his next garden. He plants his seeds indoors while there is still snow on the ground, and when he comes home from work each night, he checks on his seedlings, adjusting the temperature of the room, the lighting and air flow. His workshop in the basement is transformed into a greenhouse of sorts for the last few cold months of the season. When it gets warm enough, he tills the soil and brings his seedlings outside to his cold frame, or plants the hardier early plants.  The kids look forward to this every year; the garden goes from being full of potential: to being full of life!  I find things like this on my kitchen counter: And I find little people in the garde

     Timing is everything, and it's never a good time for something bad to happen, or so we think. Over the years, my husband and I have weathered many sad times, times that were a burden to carry. But as I look back, I also see how those trying times were accompanied by an uplifting or joyous event. After we lost our first baby, we got a puppy; but unbeknownst to us, she was already dying of distemper. "Great, our baby dies, and now our puppy is dying," we said. But our vet asked if he could have a chance at saving her, at no cost to us, other than just boarding her. Our neighbors rallied around us and asked for daily updates. The vet saved her, as well as our spirits, and we had 11 years with that faithful dog. Sadly, she developed cancer, and we had to put her down a week before I gave birth to our fifth child. During that 11 years, my father-in-law was run over by a car 2 weeks before I gave birth to our third child. My dear husband's life was shaken, but he had a