Aging. I’ve been noticing. Teeth going yellow, legs a little wobbly, less muscle mass but more weight, hearing not what it was, eyes not as bright, moles popping up in places, still active, but sleeping more. He’s almost 13 now, Skyler, so it’s not surprising. But still. It’s a complaint I can do nothing about.
When winter starts to wind up it reminds me of time’s passing–what the winter has done. You assess the damage. You see how the front steps have worn, owed to shoveling maybe. Back steps too. You see grass for the first time in nearly three months. You see what was under the snow. And you prepare for a different style of living, a reordering of things, as it were.
As you survey the ground for the first time your eyes tend to rest on the poop. Sans snow Skyler ordinarily does his thing in particular areas of the outdoors so I know where to look. But with deep snow cover for nearly three solid months his bathroom plans fell apart and he did what he could wherever he could. That, let me tell you, is a lot. A winter’s worth.
Broken branches need picking up. Living branches need trimming, the raspberry patch and, especially, the four apple trees. Of course that means more branches will need picking up. It’s a circle. Two of the four apple trees have been especially challenging to prune. They had a different shape almost from their earliest days; no matter how I trimmed them they managed to reach upward instead of outward, so they’re almost always out of control, misshapen–for an apple tree anyway. They also produce fewer apples than the other two trees, and had no apples at all for their first ten years. They’re definitely not working with me.
Then there’s the gravel. An unfortunate side effect of plowing. And apparently unavoidable. The gravel litters both sides of the driveway, pebbles tossed left and right with the occasional pudding-like mix of mud, tiny stones and bits of turf in need of a shovel, not a rake. There was a time years ago I actually brought my shop vac (on a 100 foot cord no less) to this chore, sucking up the stones from still dormant grass. I fantasized I could actually keep the gravel where it belonged.
I’ve compromised since then.
