All my life I have been independent, self sufficient. My Dad insisted on that, no matter what I decided to do with my life. He taught me to do things that would make most women cringe or at least gave me the confidence to tackle the job without calling for help. I have removed, unclogged, and reset a toilet when Son 2 flushed a plastic toy. I have replaced a garbage disposal when it failed, installed deadbolts, replaced the battery in hubby’s Harley, helped son retrieve a part that fell down in the diesel engine of his truck where he couldn’t reach, run a plumbing snake under the kitchen sink after taking all the traps and pipes apart. Removed mice from traps, caught snakes to relocate, erected fencing, split firewood. Google has been a boon, you can find a video to do just about anything. But, it is getting harder for me to contort my body into cabinets or to lie on the cold concrete floor of the garage for any length of time anymore. My strength isn’t what it was, and after a broken wrist, wrist surgery years later on that wrist, there is no power in that hand any longer. This has caused me no small amount of frustration of late. Trying to take down and rebuild garden and chicken fencing totally overwhelmed me and I quit. I’M NOT A QUITTER. Trying to put the belt on the riding mower nearly brought me to tears, only to find out it was the wrong belt after conceding to help by my neighbor. He fought to get the belt on and it was so tight, the mower would not turn over. He removed the belt and the mower started right up. He and his wife are getting me a new, correct belt today and I will let him install it. With being confined to home doesn’t help my emotional state in dealing with these setbacks. I want to be able to do the things that I did 50 years ago, or even 5, but it is getting harder all the time. I am young for my age, strong for my age, but I am neither young enough nor strong enough to do some of the things I want to do, things I used to do. I hate asking for help. This morning after yesterday’s climbing over the washer and dryer, squatting and lying on the garage floor, yanking the pull cord on the mower, I am sore and yet, did not accomplish anything positive for it.
On a brighter note, today as I was about to prepare our lunch, along the edge of the woods at the very back of our property I spotted a black animal. Grabbing the binoculars that hang by the French doors, I could see that it was a young black bear, happily feasting on something it found. This isn’t a great picture because it was at least 250-300 yards away and I zoomed, cropped, and zoomed again. The little bear was small, probably a yearling. It has been several years since we have seen a bear up here.
After lunch, I drove the riding mower back up to the neighbors’ house and towed the gas mower. When I tried the gas mower at his house, it started right up even though it wouldn’t start at home. I left the riding mower and pulled the mower back to the house. I have mowed around the house, one mower width and mowed the actual front yard. I tackled the weed wacker and after about 25 pulls on the cord and almost giving up, it started and I edged around the house and wall in the back. I still want to get inside the wall and around the garden, but I wore out. I will finish the job later and finish mowing the rest of the yard when I get the riding mower back, so grateful to my neighbors.