They say pride comes before a fall and way back in January I was going places. Out and about with my friend,Sharon…. that is until I fell on black ice and basically mashed up my shoulder.!
However 9 months on and 2 weeks post surgery I am looking to resurrect myself in the manner of a phoenix. This is a bit of a pipe dream as recovery promises to be a slow plod requiring oodles of patience.
It is a very strange and challenging thing to lose the use of my right arm in such a fashion and I still struggle to get my head round it. Basically I process all my “stuff” by journalling which I do copiously. I have journals about everything….art, the garden, family, ….life. I fiddle with words and images. Scissors, paper and glue are certainly one of my foundation stones. Creativity is the driving force of my wellbeing but for the next few months I am having to take a different tack,a brave new world awaits… I just have to find it. To be continued…..
December: I walked down the snow covered lane to find the rose bush. It was sharply cold and slippery underfoot and I felt the ice crunch and crack, but the tarmac was reassuring rough nevertheless.
The House Sparrows are fat and fluffed up in the hedge, chirping noisily, and overhead a single silhouetted Starling fluttered it’s wings and sang to itself.
The sky, for this moment was blue. The rose hedge stood stark and brown and my eyes searched for the remembered red of the hips. They are much reduced and shrivelled but still add welcome punches of colour into the bleached ochre and pale straw of winter.
A skein of geese pass over, low enough that the dry rustle of wings is audible. Water drips into a hidden ditch and a passing car disturbs the slush.
The Starling’s song fills my mind as I turn towards home. The sky darkens to pewter as the next hail shower sweeps in from the Atlantic.
In search of roses
Shrivelled red hips punctuate
A darkening sky