When I ruptured a hamstring, last June, I was scarcely able to walk for months, until finally, my mind relieved to get X-ray validation that my pelvis was actually intact, and with the physiotherapist’s kind assistance, and that of an NHS crutch, the scar tissue began to take hold of the wavering tendon and exercise again became feasible.
Even so, I haven’t done much yet on our 50 meters of hedgerow (hawthorn, blackthorn, wild rose and specimen trees, standard Northumbrian hedging stock from TreesPlease), but I’ve started again in earnest so that I can get things sorted before the buds emerge and the garden birds begin to make their nests for the season ahead.
After I finish my ‘day job’ of writing, I shall put my overalls on and head out with my light hand shears to attack another 10m or so. I try to trim the hedge by hand, these days, because it’s more satisfying than using the roaring strimmer/hedging appliance that runs on 2-stroke petrol/oil. And the exercise is good for my cardiovascular health.
I expect I shall garner just about as much joy in the physical activity as I will have from my quiet writing stint, though I’m already rather pleased with my morning’s effort for this month’s VisualVerse.org stimulus.
And so I hope that the punctuation marks of my day are arranged as effort and joy, and then, maybe a quiet rest in the company of The Repair Shop.
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