by Ana Grarian

One of the pleasures I had looked forward to in retirement, was the ability to work until I was tired and dirty and not have to worry about saving enough of myself to make it through my job afterwards. The pleasure of digging, planting, building, sitting down to rest when I needed to, and falling into bed with no alarm set.
Unfortunately life had other plans. For certain parts of the day I must be neat and squeaky clean, rested enough to stand for seven hours straight, and to present a perky and informed countenance to our customers. On the days I work nights, that means enough time to scrub the dirt out from under my fingernails, and a nap.
The days I work the morning shift, I walk home, drop into a chair, thankful to put my feet up. An hour or so later I steel myself to drag my creaky back into the kitchen to do dishes and fix dinner.
I really miss the younger me who could work all day in the barn and elicit enough adrenalin to go to work and sling boxes all night. Now even the mini-tiller leaves the back sore, and my calves scream from spading up an enlarged flower bed. Of course the achey back is a remnant of those hard working years.


Fortunately, the days are getting longer and there are enough daylight hours to enjoy digging in the dirt after dinner. Maybe just wandering the garden and pulling some weeds, or meandering the neighborhood with the dog to snatch a few wildflowers, or cuttings to add to the mix. Living amongst gardening neighbors has it’s perks.

Though I complain about it every morning, the cats’s desire to be up with the birds, is a good thing too. The morning feeding and dog walk is done with enough time to enjoy coffee on the porch before the traffic starts, and still leaves enough time to write before heading off to work. Speaking of which…..it’s time to get dressed and head downtown.