At one point or another, most of us have uttered platitudes along the lines of "if you don't have your health, you don't have anything." Let's be honest, it takes really losing it to fully appreciate what that means. Cancer survivors get it. People who have lost the ability to walk or see understand. And now, I grasp it in a way I never could have as an arrogant, immortal teenager. I had a rough several years. I walked around in pain, trying to put on a happy face, and I kept myself home from a lot of group activities to avoid physical strain. And now that a string of surgeries over the last seven years have scooped out the damaged bits, I'm rediscovering health and strength, and I wish I had enough superlatives in my vocabulary to explain how remarkable that is to me. I woke up early this morning, just as the sky was lightening, before sunup. I started calculating in my head how soon I would have to be outside before it was too hot to wear long pants and long sleeves, so that I could mow the front yard in comfort, safe from mosquitoes. I didn't have to mow. No one suggested it had to be me rather than the man who was still sound asleep next to me. I wanted to do it. And when I got out and started pushing the mower around in the heat of the morning, I found that I enjoyed it. Three months ago it was an effort (physically and mentally) to get from the couch to the bathroom, and today I was excited about going outside and performing yard maintenance. I have started carrying heavy things, volunteering for major projects, and feeling comfortable in my own skin again. Now that I have my health, I have everything.
I walked out from the store into the garden center of Lowe's this afternoon, and was suddenly aware of how incredibly wet and heavy the air was. There was an amazingly electric sultry feeling, and not five seconds after I was struck by the sensation of air at maximum humidity levels, a line of storms crossed over the store, dumping a brief, driving rain over all the flowers and shrubs. The smell was intoxicating. We were at the garden center for one thing only, to get the wave petunias that were on the clearance racks, so that I have something attractive and hardy I can leave in the deck baskets when I move away. I'm able to find the restraint not to load up the trunk with all the little pretties only because I know I will be moving soon. I will have a whole new yard to sculpt and train in a few weeks, or more likely a few months. I did my hardiness zone research today, and learned that my target county is zone 5b, with a streak of 6a. This is good news. I will be able to grow plenty of things, even if I can't leave annuals out all winter like I can here. But the best news of all is that I can overwinter hydrangeas there, if I am careful with them (wrap them up in cages full of straw). I know I will have access to a whole new cast of characters up at altitude (lilacs and Russian sage come to mind), but it is comforting to know I can keep some of my favorites close by at the new park. It will help it feel like home much sooner.
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