R & R & T

I am a workaholic and realized I almost never spend whole days outdoors anymore. So out I go into the mists of October, scaring packs of deer who apparently thought this property was all theirs.

I have now re-engaged with recreation and hobbies. A two-mile walk today on an unexpectedly steep new trail I balanced with a half-hour of leisure in the zero-gravity chair with a pot of hot tea.

I'm taking Russian-language classes and barre classes. The Russian teacher lived four years in Moscow. She says, "Russia is the only country in the world where a poetry reading can fill a stadium." I plan to live on my Social Security in the lovely Silk Road city of Samarkand, Uzbekistan. They all speak Russian, and I'm glad they do, because there's no Uzbek-language classes around here.

Barre classes are ballet-inspired workouts but without the impact. I bought a package of 10 one-hour classes to deliberately invest too much to waste them. One hour in class draws only the most determined and addicted, because barre is torture and whips up those endorphins like, whoo-ee. The regulars -- there are lots! -- are all trim through the middle and have built a genuine booty. That's right, a booty worth writing home about. If I get one, I will post it. Twenty years older than most participants, I sometimes lag but never quit and after three classes am catching on.

Later I'll practice my bongos.

Zero Gravity Chair

My old tube-framed, woven-plastic folding porch lawn chair finally gave out and I gracefully let it go, taking it to the recycling place, and then, because I spend so much time lounging on the screened porch, sought a new one and saw for sale absolutely nothing like those familiar tube-framed, woven-plastic patio chairs, as hard as I looked. So how to replace the chair I used to work in, doze in, carry to the meadow and sun myself in? That kind simply isn't sold any longer.

Instead, I saw folding "director's" chairs (don't need one) and "zero-gravity" lounge chairs, and there being nothing else, I chose the highest-starred one on Amazon, chose between burgundy and black, and in two days a box half as high as I and three times as wide appears on my porch and has to be dragged into the carpeted living room, where the item won't be scratched in case I want to return it, I'm that skeptical. With the box sliced open, I dump out and unfold a well-wrapped chair ALREADY ASSEMBLED, ready to sit in, a situation so knock-me-over-with-a-feather that in my confusion I actually looked at the instruction sheet, and from it learned how to lock the chair into position with handy little tabs beneath the armrests, and how to attach the utility tray (holding drinks, phones, and right now the tablet I took this photo with). The attached sun-shade is adjustable and folds away, over the chair back. Looks like they came on the market in 2015 and everyone was wise to them but me.

I was curious: What is so zero-gravity about it? Then I got in the chair, stretched it out, and locked it into position with the little pull tabs, and lounged. What a difference from the former chair that like those dreadful wooden "Adirondack"chairs had you seated with knees above butt level, pressuring the lower spine. I've about decided to keep this rather handsome chair as my living-room lounge chair and buy another for the porch. The white dot on the chair back is a reflection from the sun.

Spring Forward

The spiritual reading today said "Strengthen your will." I said, okay, I'll try, nothing to lose, and after my in-room coffee made the bed and dressed myself at once for the 6:30 p.m. ballet class, my favorite -- because then I won't have to change later. Without much back-and-forth or cellphone reading I willfully decided -- because the dawning day was wildly beautiful, the forsythia and tree buds all popping, the blue and white hyacinths in full bloom, the air clear and fresh -- to take a walk at Glassberg Conservation Area. One mile into the walk there's a fantastic vista of the Meramec River valley. Then one mile back.

Bluebells, violets, spring beauty, the white daisy-like flowers of the bloodroot, the first dappled leaves of the trillium -- all suddenly existed. Walking was easy and puddles few because gravel was recently shoveled over some well-worn parts of the path. There's a wooden bridge and some stepping stones across a creek tributary. The sun dribbled light into the narrow stream. It was 9:00 a.m. A sleeveless shirt was perfect. In the photo I'm relaxing alongside an energetic little waterfall with clear fresh icy water. How good!

After this willful walk I willfully fixed a full breakfast and ate it on the porch in perfect weather with singing birds alongside. This breakfast was a victory -- toast and egg and all that.

I had willfully washed and dried my new cotton nightgown, a great bargain, that arrived with sleeves four inches too long. I willfully set up the ironing board -- usually it might take me five weeks to feel like doing it, but I was strengthening my will -- and secured the ruler, shears and pins to shorten the sleeves, and hemmed the sleeves with iron-on sticky tape rather than needle and thread, although needle and thread might have been quicker. Finished in an hour.

Then I went willfully to work on my work. Did okay. Then fixed a banana-yogurt-peanut butter-coffee shake for lunch. Then wanted to get lazy. Just for today, I won't be. I need a hummingbird feeder (birds arrive around April 24; males have arrived as early as the 12th). After ballet class I will go get one.

Set a Spell

May is one of my favorite months and what better way to celebrate its first day than after cutting brush and whatnot, to "set a spell" -- beneath the twin oak trees and behind what's left of my biggest cold frame, the one too big and well-made for me to dismantle with a claw hammer like I did the three other cold frames. As I get older I understand and am fond of the need to sit down and rest during days of hard work. Chair from Walmart purchased in 1998, steel and tough thick 1/2-inch plastic, still good although left outside in all weathers. I should've bought several; then yall could sit with me and gaze at the greenery that still feels so new after that awful dark winter. I'll also sit here to have a cup of tea or coffee and just be amazed at this wonderful Missouri.

Vitamin D

Doc said, “You’re low on Vitamin D.” Me??! Just combine sunscreen, long pants and sleeves, a solidly rainy October, shorter daylight, aging, drinking rice milk not dairy milk, being too busy, and days too dark or too wet to hike or chop weeds. He prescribed 5000-unit capsules, one weekly for 6 weeks. Also I’d better quit runnin’ ‘round and get more sun and rest. So I sat outside in the sun to drink coffee this morning and saw my bluebird pair. Maybe the box looks like a nice place to spend winter. Recent migrants: white-throated sparrow (I heard it) and yellow-rumped warbler (I saw it). And juncos have arrived. Don't be like me; take time out to sun yourself and live life.

Set a Spell and Eat Somethin

Road maps used to call them "waysides," but now they're marked with this sign, and have no name. "Rest stops" have "facilities". This sign indicates the facilities are a shade tree and a picnic table, so there's nothing to do but park, unpack your picnic basket, sit down, and enjoy.

That is my idea of what heaven will be like: just like this life, but with infinite choices and no sickness. I fancy myself and companions on the road from Shakespeare's new play to Cab Calloway's nightclub, settin' and refreshin' ourselves with lemonade and roasted-vegetable sandwiches, or Italian-flag sandwiches with tomato, mozzarella and basil, all drizzled with olive oil, don't forget the pepper and salt and peperoncini. . . . Divine picnic baskets never run out of food, and especially never run out of desserts. Cake and ice cream? Cherry pie and hot coffee? Frozen grapes? Ask and ye shall receive.

I keep this sign, a replica of the official ones (I see very few indeed!) tacked up my porch to remind me how simple and how near is heavenly bliss.