April 22 is Earth day, so naturally, this is an especially appropriate month to consider all the ways we can help preserve our natural resources. April also brings nice weather in the Northern hemisphere and our thoughts go to summer trips we may want to take.
Thinning of the bones is inevitable for women after 60, right? For 10 years I was hovering in the osteopenia range, blond, blue-eyed, with Northern European heritage. I thought I had to just live with it, swallow my calcium, eat my greens and keep exercising to combat the onslaught of aging.
The holidays, with their many gatherings and social opportunities, have passed. I still feel the warmth of many renewed connections. Some were stimulated by relatives and friends sharing information about past and upcoming trips, others by the sadness over the many health problems that we’re all facing.
In our ‘civilized’ world, food isn’t just used for survival, food is a drug. Do you know anyone who consistently refuses food when offered?
As the days shorten, the sunny hours become more precious. I grab a hold of them as if they are a lifeline strung between me and the darkness that increasingly envelops me as the days roll toward the winter solstice. It resembles a slow drowning into the depth of the season.
Today I’m writing about a walking woman dear to me: my sister. My sister has been battling bladder cancer for the last 3 years.
By the time we have crossed the 60 timeline, doing housework is probably the last thing on our mind. Let alone housework on a sunny summer day. You will think, “There are better things to do with my time.” That maybe so, but let’s not underestimate the lowly housework in its capacity of giving satisfaction and joy.
I often hear grandparents say, “I love spending time with the toddler grands but am glad to give them back to their parents at the end of the day. I’m exhausted, they have so much energy!”
The desert spreads out below me as I pick my way on the rocky trail. Yesterday’s deep purple of Chinese lantern flowers lining the path has changed to soft lavender phacelia and bright orange mallow.
Life at the speed of two miles an hour lets me retrieve the names of plants buried in the recesses of my brain since last summer’s hikes.