I had the stamina I had when I was in my 30's or even my 40's when I could work outside from the time I got everyone out the door to work and school, until it was time to come in around 3 PM to get myself cleaned up, prepare dinner...and then clean-up the kitchen after that.
Around that time of my life we purchased a chunk of property adjacent to ours that measured a hundred feet, by a hundred twenty-five feet. It was overgrown with blackberry brambles that went to the tops of trees that were easily fifty feet tall. We wanted to make this piece of land like a park, a place for our kids and the neighbor- hood kids could hang out and play.
It took me most of the summer, because aside from clearing the land, I also had a weekly schedule to keep, as a result, I had to plan full days to concentrate on pulling the brambles out of all those trees. To this day I have scars all over my hands, arms and legs from being stuck by the blackberry thorns.
Finally I had the lot cleared, there were neat piles of debris here and there that needed to be burned, and piles of branches and twigs that needed to be sawed and stacked for burning in the stove in our living room. It was during that summer that I knew I came from strong stock and that possibly in a former life I might have been a Pilgrim, or perhaps a Pioneer woman who trekked across the country, mostly on foot, occasionally riding in a covered wagon.
The last several weeks, I've sure begun to doubt that, because, what I used to get done in a few hours outdoor work, now takes weeks. For example, I've been working on re-doing my front yard. I've constructed a low, concrete block retaining wall, by reusing blocks from the backside of one garden, and by dismantling a smaller concrete block surrounded, round, mounded garden out by the curb.
Dang, those blocks were heavy, I could carry and set about a dozen, and had to quit because I was pooped. As a result, that part of the job took a week or more. Then, I had to move ALL THE MOUND DIRT, to the back side of the large garden to make it even larger. I did this a bucket load at a time, and after about a dozen trips back and forth from the mound to the garden, and back again I was exhausted and had to quit. This job took another two weeks.
Needless to say, I did a lot of mumbling and swearing under my breath, and longed for the days of my youth. Where the heck had my stamina gone? Of course, in addition, back in my younger years, I didn't have to worry if I was going to fall and break an ankle, leg or hip if I fell into a mole hole or gully which is always an old person's concern.
Anyway, Today, I'm pleased to report I'm finally done hauling dirt. I'm actually down to the 'short strokes'. I have to take a rake and smooth the remaining dirt around where the mound used to be, and then I have to buy some grass seed and hope I can get the bare spot to grow. I've been contemplating whether I want to plant a low growing shrub where the mound was, but maybe not...that sounds like too much labor.
I tell myself I'm not going to do such physical outdoor labor any more, and I mean it...honest. But, every so often I get an itch I can't scratch...and the Pilgrim or Pioneer woman starts to stir. Dang it, how come I can't control her.
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