Tuesday was stressless because I am on top of watering. I’m not getting any gardening done, and I’m way behind on raking and toting, but my plants are all surviving during this annual and severe dry spell. Lucky for them, I’m a stay-at-home dad with all the time in the world to water his botanical babies.
I finally took time to cut as much of the infestation of something off the end of every branch on the cherry tree. I couldn’t reach the high branches. I also cut out all the dead fronds from the large ferns at the entrance to the backyard. And while I waited for the sun to leave the edible garden, I got some raking and toting done. I’m heat averse and so is Sheba; she won’t walk in the afternoons anymore, unless we go to Elder Cedar. But she is being groomed today and so she’ll be feeling much cooler in a nice Summer cut.
It killed me to prune the dead fronds off the ferns because it involved bending over all the time and that irritated my back. So, many breaks were taken during the hour it took to prune them all. But my goodness they look fine! And I felt super during all my breaks because I sat right in front of the fan.
By noon it was 31°. God bless this house that keeps me very comfortable and cool. And God bless prednisone. I am still feeling the benefit of it these many weeks later. I still get out of breath, but I can do far, far more before I am so weak that I must stop what I’m doing. I was chuffed yesterday, to find myself persevering with work on the gardens and yard. Steve arrives here on the 25th and I am trying to do as much as I can to make Pinecone Park look good for him and for our friends who are coming here for dinner on the 30th.
I put an ad on Facebook for gardening help. It’s time to find someone to help me if I’m to do all I want to do before the season ends. I’m done with self-reliance! A fellow with landscaping experience replied and I engaged him. I asked him to start on Thursday, but then a woman wrote to recommend that I not hire him. I asked her why, saying that I’d keep her confidence and I explained why I was asking (my mental health). She didn’t reply, but I unhired the guy anyway.
By 5:00, it was 34°. I lowered the temperature setting in my spa by 7 degrees. As of this morning, the spa is only one degree cooler, but by week’s end, it should be much cooler. However, by weeks end this hot spell is predicted to end. In this heat, there’s no way I’m getting in hot water.
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From the This is What it’s Come to Department: Today, I can proudly share that I went down the entire three stairs of my front porch in just three steps. I know. I know. I’ll just wait until the shock leaves you.
The sad truth is that for a long time, I’ve been stepping down a stair on one foot, and then bringing the other foot down to the same stair. I go up stairs this way to keep me from going to quickly and then running out of breath. I go down this way because I have Morton’s neuroma in my right foot and the lump on my Achillies tendon on the other.
But I think the lump may be shrinking. This morning was the first time that I’ve been able to walk without the significant pain that’s been bothering me for weeks. The pain has always faded after I’ve walked for a minute.
The compression socks work excellently. I’m relieved and grateful that the solution has been so simple. I believe I may not need them come the cool weather.
As I’ve recounted here before, I bought this house from a bank in Toronto that had foreclosed on the previous owner. I could ask no questions about the place, but I had none. This house was an impulse buy, fueled by my crippled life. I was still a mess of symptoms, especially seizures, and I wanted sanctuary from the noise and bustle of city life.
I knew nothing, but I was blissful to have a log home. I spent a lot of time up in the mountains in my youth because Don Tyrell wrote a ski column in the Vancouver Sun.
Sidebar: When I wrote that sentence, I realized that it was always Don who looked after me, and that made me realize a few things. I have zero memories of being with Connie except going to church every Sunday and to two movies. And these memories of always being with Don precede her stroke and move to a care home. I’ve always assumed that she drove the adoption, and I still do, but for show. I’ve long known she was the one who got Don to beat me, but I’m still learning about this incredible character who adopted me. And this woman who adopted me from a Catholic orphanage because of her faith, had me delivered. They did not come to fetch me at the orphanage.
Back up the mountain, I was left to myself while he did his work. I got to know everyone working on the mountain. We had a room in the lodge free, whenever Don wanted to be up Grouse Mountain. It was made of logs, as were most of the cabins in the small mountain community of mostly German or Scandinavian people. And the only memory of a holiday with Don and Connie was to Surf Lodge, here on Gabriola, which is a log building.
I love log homes for emotional reasons. I knew nothing about them. I’ve learned how hard they are to insure, but I had no idea of their practicality. The logs retain heat in Winter and they keep the house very cool in Summer. And a wonderful additional thing is that the builder put ceiling fans in every room. I have one with large bamboo fans above me when I sleep.
I shouldn’t be surprised that I am hating the heat. When we had the heat dome a few years back I had a heart attack, and my doctors blamed it on the heat—plus my history of two previous (mild) heart attacks. But there’s one nice thing about heat: it’s fabulous to go outside in the evening when it is cooler. The air feels tropical and calming. Otherwise, I spend a lot of time resting indoors with the fan on me. (And no spas until the temperature falls).
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Today is going to be another hot day. I’d finished watering the entire backyard before 8:00 am. We’ll soon go for our morning walk and then Her Highness gets groomed. Hooray!
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