Seizing the Day

Gosh it's wintry out there, snow swirling in agitated, surprisingly wet, flurries though not settling, and freezing winds making a trip outdoors highly inadvisable. I had to leave the house to go to yoga this morning, though, swathed in layer upon layer of garments which I only divested myself of gradually. It's the worst hour of the week as my stiff and sore muscles are slowly, agonisingly teased apart, stretched into a semblance of normality and comfort. But how can you maintain this state throughout the winter when, of necessity, most of the day is spent sitting? Playing bridge, revising Italian, learning the million and one ways to help CAB clients, reading, doing the crossword, eating, going to the cinema, driving - most activities are carried out in a sitting position. Milder days spent in the garden usually end up with an aching body, but it's a good soreness resulting from hard and satisfying work. Yesterday I spent a couple of hours clearing out the shed and returning the bricks and floor tiles used to batten down the plastic sheeting placed on bare beds to stop any growth of weeds. My legs were wobbily and jelly-like, pathetic sticks that threatened to fold under the weight of my body as I wheeled a heavy barrow up and down. Hard to imagine that soon they'll have toughened up again as the weather softens and the garden makes ever more demands on my body. I long for it with a desperate yearning. Some of my friends say, "Oh, you're so good to do so much in the garden," or "I do a bit and then I get bored and have to stop." I simply don't understand them, as much as they find me baffling. There is nothing I would rather do, nothing. Hurry up and be over, cold snap, and let spring commence. There's only so much a body can bear.