Muscle memories

The ornamental pear trees that line the streets in my neighborhood have been in bloom for about a week now. Some of the blossoms have begun dropping their petals; when the wind catches them, it seems as though it’s snowing. Small drifts of white petals line the driveways and sidewalks and tiny white whirlwinds swirl down the middle of the street. Despite the vast numbers of trees and petals, there aren’t enough to blanket the ground, even directly beneath the trees. Gives me a new appreciation for just how many snowflakes are involved in a measurable snowfall!

Yesterday was a beautiful day to be outside, and I was able to spend most of it working in the yard. My muscles are deliciously sore today from all the digging, crouching, and schlepping — the aches and twinges are a physical memory of activity so enjoyable that I cheerfully overdid it. All day long I’ll get these little messages from my body reminding me of a day so gloriously spent, and the remembering will be a pleasure in itself.

No Advil for me!

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