Readers will recall that for much of 2016, I had a physical epiphany of sorts: working hard outside became one of the most productive activities in my life. I chopped, cut, shoveled, hammered, sawed, dug, moved, built, painted, sanded, carried, and assembled something every day I could. It was good. I got a lot done. I felt stronger. It was satisfying.
Then, Christmas came, and with it a head cold. The weather turned sharply colder. Between Christmas and New Year’s Day, I got the house in shape and took down all the Christmas stuff, which is certainly work, but as January arrived we were hit by a couple more cold patches, and I developed a somewhat serious upper respiratory infection.
So it seems from my chair that my life has come to something of a stop. I know it will start again, and I already have ambitions on the horizon (like getting the garden planted in March), but another round of weather just rolled in, cold and wet. Abby had a nasty fall Thursday (ask her about it directly if you want to know more). I’m feeling down about it all.
On the other hand. I am feeling better, as is Abby. The sun will come out one of these days. Politics are never permanent. These hands will paint the porch and repair the siding and tend the garden. I am young and strong. Now may be the full stop, but it will move again.