The rollercoaster which is my life decided it was time to fly off a cliff. Or so it has felt like the past few months.
Last autumn, I took a hard kersplat while training for a 10k run. (Otherwise known as: I took a fall last fall. Autumn and kersplat sound much better, amiright? But I digress…) Life being what it is, it wasn’t until June that I decided to confront the nagging pain and discomfort in my right shoulder, a result of landing hard on my bent arm last autumn. And – wouldn’t you know it – I had a complete tear in the rotator cuff, as well as a torn bicep, and. Hello, Cliff. Time to take flight.
Two months ago, I had surgery to repair both tears and – if you aren’t familiar with post rotator cuff surgery – consider yourself very, very fortunate. Six weeks in the bulkiest, hottest, most uncomfortable contraption ever invented. Yes, they call it an “abductor shoulder sling.” I prefer to call it… er… I will keep this G rated. I will just say that at my six week post-op appointment, I told the orthopedic surgeon that I had a gallon of gasoline and a metal trash in my truck and I planned to burn that… er… sling… in his parking lot, if he wanted to join me for the bonfire. He advised me to throw the sling in the attic “as insurance that I will never ever need it again – Murphy’s Law – as soon as one gets rid of it, they will need it again.” So off to the attic the sling went… I am not one to tempt Fate nor Murphy.
And what does all of that have to do with gardening and being Back in the Saddle Again?
Well, my garden assistant – otherwise known as The Husband – the one who had dutifully kept my garden watered through the hottest part of a Texas summer while I was confined to the above mentioned sling – had been telling me for the past week that I had a lot of peppers that needed to be picked. Yes, yes, I knew that. But I am in what the physical therapist calls, “The Danger Zone.” I am out of the sling but not out of the woods and free to roam about quite yet. My garden strolls have been limited to just that. Strolls. On paths. No actual gardening. Ah. But Sunday, while The Husband, otherwise known as The Enforcer Of Shoulder Rehab Rules, was away running errands, I decided those peppers weren’t going to pick themselves, so off to the garden I went!
Ah! I am ridin’ the range again! Back in the saddle, I am!
It will be slow and steady for quite a while yet but I cannot even begin to tell you how glorious it felt to get some dirt under my fingernails.
And. About those peppers!
I picked a bowl.
And then needed another bowl?!
Yes. The Husband was right. (Sh… Don’t tell him I said that! Our secret, okay?)
I Had Some Peppers To Pick!
Two bowls worth of peppers! Not too shabby considering the garden had run feral for two months.
Some of the poblano peppers went straight in to supper that night as tamale stuffed peppers, which was the first time making that recipe and it will be back on the menu again soon. Some of the peppers are too wickedly hot (ie: 45 minutes after I tasted and spit out one of them, I was beginning to feel my lips again…) Those will most likely be given to a neighbor who likes him some hot peppers. Some of the peppers are destined for the dehydrator, as I purchased one last summer after I realized I can make my own chimichurri seasoning.
I am now anxious to get some winter veg planted, though I will need to clear some garden space first as the passionvine, in my absence, may have tried to outperform kudzu as fastest growing vine in the south. That task will need to wait a while, though, as the fritillary butterflies have been all aflutter the past few days. In the meantime, I will wander the garden a bit more now and dream of better gardening days ahead. And dream of once again having two strong sturdy shoulders.
Keep calm and garden on and take care of your body and each other.
the melodious garden 