It’s September 20th already. Not that late in the season and not so cold yet. I’m not even sure we’ve had Indian Summer already but we must have. I think I missed it. I don’t mind the cooler air, the smell of autumn leaves, the promise of great nights for sleeping, the scent of firewood burning fireplaces and look I forward to all of these. Since we’ve continued to have moderate temperatures at night until recently, the leaves are only now considering dressing up for fall.
It seems that the end of summer has been taking its time this year but still the clock marches on. I always thought that time flew by because I’m getting older but that’s not so. I don’t want to give the impression I feel that time is against just me? I happened to mention it to my daughter—who is a lot younger than me, of course—about how rapidly one year fades into another. She’s felt it since she started working and now she’s a working mother…it’s disappearing faster still. I also know that time vanishes too quickly for people who are especially busy. That’s true too. Turn around and it’s here. Turn again and it’s gone. No way to change it.
This edging past the end of summer assures me of the certainty of aching joints to come, more so than in the warm months. Recently I had an arthritic flare-up (that’s what I call it in the absence of a correct / better explanation/description / medical term). The pinkie of my left hand decided to put me on notice:
I’m still here you know. I’ve left the thumbs alone except for twice in the past five years. What? You thought I’d gone for good? Ha. I’m getting bored here and need some new action. Can you feel how stiff I am? Am I red and inflamed yet? I bet you can’t bend me, can you?
Don’t try medicating me. Medicating will just make something else feel rotten—sooner or later. I haven’t had such a good time for so ages. Great. You’ve banged me on the table again. Bet that smarts! I stick out like a sore thumb you say and there’s no help for me being in the wrong place at the wrong time? I’m lovin’ IT.
I see you’ve met my friend Mr. Osteoarthritis. He thinks we’re close or it’s in his plans to be one day. No, I haven’t tried medicating him but I’d like to get my hands around his little throat if they weren’t so stiff so I could properly grab him. I believe it’s too early for medicating but I don’t look forward to any surprises that are bound to come sooner or later. Now that he’s made his despicable appearance, he’s not exactly trustworthy, is he, from rumors I’ve heard?
I haven’t read a lot of the literature but I KNOW that the cold gives Mr. Osteo added opportunity to mess with me more easily, especially my hands. Gloves don’t help in winter and brushing snow off my car is not something I can look forward to. Ouch. So far, he hasn’t discovered the rest of my delectable temptations. I hope to keep him in the dark.
Other than occasionally dealing with Mr. Osteo, I have few complaints about our cold Canadian climate. My pet peeve is winter’s cold, mostly in the past few years. Brrrr. I absolutely, positively detest it but let’s not rush into that before it’s time.