It was all happening out at the Crow tree this morning.
This I could observe without moving from my desk.
A good thing, considering the hole in my big toe.
My big toe has no feeling and I don’t often look beneath it. Maybe I should pay it more attention.
It would be absolutely typical to be brought down by my feet.
Feet were the curse of my mother’s life. She had the worst set of feet I have ever seen.
Wouldn’t you know it was the one thing I inherited.
Mum was a brilliant cook, a master gardener. She was creative and skilled at many crafts. And she was a gracious hostess.
But I got the feet.
At least I knew enough to avoid the sort of shoes that made my mother suffer. Not that this prevented the development of bunions. Mine were a shade less obtrusive and problematic, though my work often involved running around which sometimes wasn’t fun.
In my early 50’s I began to consider bunion surgery but I put it off because of the long recovery. Then my spine gave out and I was down for the count anyway, so I had the brilliant idea to use the time for dual recovery.
How thoughtful of me!
Truthfully, when I took sick leave, I had a pretty good idea I might not be back.
Early retirement had seemed a good option, but the thought was overwhelming. In retirement, I would become a non-person. My identity had been caught up in working for the airline for 38 years.
There had been times when it was prestigious to work for the company that employed me. There were many more when it was quite the opposite, but we always felt part of a team.
Retiring, I would become just another “ex”. The process of “last days” would be stressful. By retiring off sick leave, I could avoid all that.
It felt cowardly, but I had to leave the door open, just in case I was able to go back.
Fifteen years off my feet and have they improved?
Bunions grow back. Feet get larger.
Additionally, I have no feeling in my right foot, except when whatever controls my nervous system decides to get my attention:
“HELLO! Remember ME?!“
“Where were you when I got a blister under my toe?”
Might have been helpful to know about that.
Considering footwear options, I’d decided to try clogs, which turned out to involve “adjustment”.
However, I was getting nicely adapted, then last night I happened to notice the hole under my big toe.
“Bugger!” said I.
Anyway, that is why it is particularly nice to be able to watch the world from behind my desk while I wait for the damn thing to dry up.
The so-called “Crow tree” is the pine out by the garage which happens to be where crows often hang out.
The little squirrel in these pictures I call “Ghost” because it is so white.
It’s a pretty creature and quite active.
Here’s someone else who’s active.
Talk about being caught red-handed.
“Um. Oh, hello missus. I just thought I would help out by removing the dead ones. I know you like to keep a tidy garden!”
It waddled its fat bottom away into the bushes.
The groundhogs have suddenly all ballooned and are developing their pre-hibernation bodies.
Most of them. Some are still so tiny:
But even the tiny groundhogs are getting fat little tummies.
At the risk of becoming boringly repetitious, I’m going to post some pictures I took yesterday.
There are so many dreadful things going on around the world these days, it’s always nice to have a little chuckle…
The littlest ducked out leaving her sibling to go solo.
In Scotland, they sing to a haggis.
This is the groundhog equivalent.
It’s called “Oh Carrot!”
“Oh I sing me a song to my little carrot…”
“So very lubly in my tummy!”