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By Anne Carmichael

Columnist

I never liked gardening when I was young enough to do it without fear of ending up in traction. My standard response when encouraged to assist in landscaping our home was “I don’t do dirt.”

I certainly appreciated our well-manicured lawn and boasted about the plethora of beautiful trees and flowers…I just had no part in the sweat equity required to make it so and maintain it. 

Like so many shifts in both mind and body that have occurred later in my life, gardening has now become a passion. But as I work the soil and tend my flowers, I sometimes think I hear robust chuckling somewhere beyond the clouds. 

“If only she’d done dirt when she was younger, she’d be stronger now. Gardening at her age is going to be quite a test of endurance,” saith the Lord.

“Understood and probably deserved, Lord. But did you have to give me twice as many weeds as I see in my neighbor’s yards?”

When I go outside during a summer rain shower, I swear I can hear the weeds pushing their way through the soil up into the mulch. Their roots are like tentacles clawing deep into the dirt and hanging on for dear life. The handy dandy weeding tool I purchased is no match for these hardy weeds. No, they require full-on, earth-moving. But that’s easier said than done. I nearly tip over just putting my pants on in the morning, so balancing one foot on top of a shovel as I struggle to wrench their roots from its grip must surely be an amusement to my neighbors. It’s no wonder they often fail to recognize my face. That’s seldom the side of me they see.

Year after year I proceed to tend my little patch of Heaven and will continue to do so for as long as I can stand, bend, and return to an upright position. It seems almost to have become a test of my endurance because I know that I often push myself far beyond rational limits. 

Take for example our recent heat wave. Temperatures climbed into the 90s even before the meteorological calendar marked the start of summer. The heat index in Kentucky reached triple digits and rivaled those in Florida and other tropical locations. I chose that time to mow, weed, and work on a play area for my great-grandchildren. 

TV weathermen/women cautioned young people and children to hydrate. As for seniors, we were warned to stay inside in the air-conditioning and not go outside except to go to the mailbox and right back inside. They didn’t mean me. I spent several hours each day in the scorching heat doing hard, manual labor. I didn’t take breaks. I didn’t even take water outside.

By the time I came indoors, I had to sit for nearly thirty minutes before I could walk the 60 paces to the shower.  Spots appeared before my eyes. The condensation began to pour from my hairline, down the tributaries (aka wrinkles) on my face, and neck, and pooled in the crevices all the way down to my cankles. 

More minutes ticked by before my breathing and heart rate stabilized.  When I finally made it to my shower, climbing the two feet over the edge of the tub was a challenge….but I did it. More points on my Golden Moments and Foolish Pranks Marathon. 

I survived but I warn all of you (seniors and healthy young people alike), to heed the warnings of experts. Don’t push the boundaries of what sensible seniors should do during inclement weather. Our bodies were not made to withstand such suffering.

Well, as I said, I am well recovered. I have vowed to no longer thumb my nose at forewarnings. I can’t say that I won’t continue to push my limits, but I will promise to listen to cautionary advice. 

As we bravely swim into the peak summer months, I hope that all your Geri-Antics are sensible and promote your health and longevity. Do as I say….not as I do. Make sure you adhere to your medication schedule. Eat well and on time. Listen to what your healthcare professionals are telling you. Stay active, but give credence to heat and humidity guidelines.

Let’s continue to beautify our community with flowers and boost the food chain with our vegetable gardens in a productive yet safe and healthy way!