Since mid-January I’ve been clomping around in a “walking boot” provided by my doctor after we concluded that I’d fractured my fibula back in December. The walking boot is supposed to keep everything fixed in place so that it will heal correctly. It’s no doubt way better than wearing a cast all the time. I could remove it to take a shower and change clothes. Still, it was not much fun to walk on the boot everyday. I sure couldn’t sneak up on anyone because of the noise the thin rubber sole made on most floors. When time came to review the situation last week with my doctor, I proposed moving to an ankle brace as a logical half-step to freedom. The doc agreed that it would give me most of the protection that the walking boot did, but that I’d need to be especially careful not to get into situations where I could force my ankle to twist and re-injure myself. I was really getting tired of having my toes hanging out of that boot all the time and missed very much wearing a shoe on my left foot. So I promised I’d be good and got my ankle brace.
The upshot of this is that with my need to be extra careful, I don’t see much liklihood of having a garden at my Mooresville, NC home this year. There’s just too much chance of fouling up on the uneven ground of a garden. Using my tiller to plow is out of the question, but even then, if I got a friend to plow, there’s much more work to do to bring a garden out of the ground and too much chance of having to start over in “THE BOOT.” So, this may be the first time in about twenty years that I’ll have to go to the store or farmer’s market to get my tomatoes and squash. I’m so used to just going out to the garden to pick what I want, I may experience a bit of withdrawal from not being able to just pull a tomato and slice it up five minutes later.
I know as I get older I’ll have to give up some things I enjoy. I watched my parents go through that unhappy evolution. But I’m not ready to give up my garden for the long haul. I may be the only person on the street that grows vegetables, but I think that’s the neighbors’ loss (except when I bring them a bag of my vegetables).
The good news is that I may be able to trade garden time for shop time. Don’t think there’s much way to hurt myself (at least my foot) in the shop- my silver lining.