The Pillow Book of Prudence . . .
Things that make a memorable end of week . . .
The football Grand Final. Sun and mild weather. The garden unfolding more. Hints of beauty giving way to full-blown glamour. Planting vegetables for summer. Walking the dogs on the beach each day. Wading in the chill water, allowing it to reach up to the calf. Hearing bees working in the garden. Watching my cousin play great football. Grooming the horse. The boatshed build beginning. Planning a menu for my son’s twenty sixth birthday.
Things that don’t . . .
The Grand Final ending in a draw, a replay next Saturday. Too much wind. Waiting for the editor’s email. Ankle swelling after walking in soft sand, as advised by the physiotherapist. The oldest dog losing sight and sound of me on the beach. Hay fever. Being really tired. And stiff. And sore. No chocolate to eat tonight except for a packet of Nestlé chocbits . . .
It’s almost the end of the ninth month and I can now count ten weeks since my accident. I am walking, less lame than before until late in the day. When I can run for fifteen minutes, I can play tennis. As the oldest dog lost himself yesterday on the beach, I had to run after him and barely managed fifteen running strides. But that’s fifteen strides I didn’t have last week.
In this ninth month, I have found a delectable chocolate cake recipe for my son’s birthday. I have watched enormous strength and determination on the football field. But as the commentators say how can they hope to go back and do it again next week, I am reminded that Australian soldiers in Afghanistan go out with strength and determination (and courage) every day.
And as the liquid ambers and Himalayan strawberry tree unfurl their leaves, I am reminded again how I love Spring and my spirits unfurl in tandem.