Walking Again

I have missed walking the most. Eleven weeks ago when shooting sciatic nerve pain stopped me from walking, I felt angry at the loss of mobility. Anger morphed to sadness, then into determination to heal. This week I felt like I could walk again. Of course, it has been a slow and gradual process from short hobbling trips, to longer limping mixed with lying down. But this week I made a few significant trips without having to rest until we reached our destination. Our first destination was the pond, where we were rewarded by a visit from our friend the Great Blue Heron. Lewis was fascinated by seeing the huge bird up close, and followed it around the pond on his inner tube. We could not tell if there was a nest near by, but she was not to be scared off and only flew from one side of our small pond to the other when Lewis got too close. Mostly she would hide in the bushes and squawk at us.

We swam, watched the heron, I rested in the shade and swam a few laps in the pond. It was the first time I had been to the pond on my own with the kids since the beginning of May. Once again I was reminded of the perspective of the young mind: I felt a sense of victory from my long walk, but the kids saw only the reality of the day, plus a Great Blue Heron trumps it all. I am humbled and grateful for what I am able to do each day.

Lewis and I next made a trip to visit the cattle, another first for me for the summer. I have not talked much about cattle and grazing this summer, in part because I am not out there, and in part because we just take down and put up fence and the cattle, the rain and the sunshine do the rest.

Without the ability to walk I was almost completely removed from the physical world of the farm. I had to learn a new form of trust for the the people who help us every day to keep the farm running (thank you Chad, Gwen, Racey, Holly, John, Matt and Lilly). Not that they were untrained, or inexperienced, but I was not there to see any mistakes, or anticipate any problems; I had to trust they would figure it out and they would come to me if they needed my help.

As I venture out on the farm more I am confronted with all the fears, worries, to do’s and shoulds that I have found peace with in the solitude and quiet of my bedroom. I suppose the first journey is inside, and the next journey beings as I venture out.

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Look and See
By Mary Oliver

This morning, at waterside, a sparrow flew
to a water rock, and landed, by error, on the back
of an eider duck; lightly it fluttered off, amused.
The duck, too, was not provoked, but, you might say, was
laughing.

This afternoon a gull sailing over
our house was casually scratching
its stomach of white feathers with one
pink foot as it flew.

Oh Lord, how shining and festive is your gift to us, if we
only look, and see.