Birthday again already?

Aldo Leopold bench on Cypress Island

Yes, it's that time again: my birthday, just when I had been getting used to being 81, now I am 82. This lovely picture of an Aldo Leopold bench on Cypress Island was taken exactly one year ago Friday. I learned about Aldo from my virtual friend Connie years ago. She sent me a copy of the book, A Sand County Almanac, written by Leopold, and first published in 1949 by his son. I might just read it again, since I remember how much I enjoyed it but have forgotten why, other than a few vivid scenes that live in my memory through his writing.

During the past winter, I went on several excursions by water taxi to different San Juan islands that are only accessible by boat. I didn't realize it had been a full year until I went back through my pictures, looking for something to head up this post and found this one. Leaves have fallen and the bushes and branches are into their winter mode. And we are there once again, after a year of sprouting, turning into blossoms and fruiting, before again returning to rest for another winter.

At my age, there are few new adventures for me to experience, after a full lifetime of them. Here I am again, looking forward to winter after a beautiful (although wet) fall here in the Pacific Northwest. Every year, however, I realize that I am no longer young, and no longer interested in finding new adventures. I'm resting on my laurels instead. What does that mean exactly?

To “rest on our laurels” means to relax and rely on our past achievements or success as justification for not achieving new things or new success. It comes from the ancient Greek and Roman societies, where high-ranking and high-achieving people were awarded crowns made of laurel leaves to mark their accomplishments.

It seems like an accomplishment for me just to have reached this age, since all but one of my family members never made it this long. Daddy died at 62, Mama at 69, my grandmother to 79, and here I am beginning my eighty-third year of life on this planet. I don't remember many individual birthdays from long ago, other than vague recollections, such as turning 21 and going to a bar for the first time and ordering a drink. Or turning sixteen and getting my driver's license and promptly crunching in the front fender of my dad's car. In later years, my friend Lily has given me some nice gatherings to mark the day, such as this one:

Not hard to tell which one this was

She gave me the balloon afterwards, and I realized how much I didn't want to advertise my new decade, but it was such a nice gesture that I appreciated it anyway. She is a good friend and is currently out of town, so no birthday celebrations for me today. My guy wanted to buy me some fudge bars to celebrate, but my recent blood work has caused me to decide to cut back sweets. My triglycerides are too high and I need to stop eating so many sugary delights. It will be my task to get the numbers lower for my next trip to the doctor. Other than that, everything looks good, which makes me wonder just what awful disease will probably cause my demise.

Maybe it's normal to get to my age and wonder about such things. One thing I know, I will not be getting any surgeries or chemo to extend life into my nineties. Life does not seem quite as exciting when you've lost your sight. Although I still have enough to get by right now, my retina specialist doesn't pull any punches: I'm going to become legally blind in the not-so-distant future. Tomorrow I get my next eye jab, and so far I've still got central vision in my left eye. But as I said, life will become harder when it's gone. For someone who has taken her sight for granted, it will be a real game-changer. But not yet, for now I can see well enough to write here, and to read the news websites and watch episodes of my favorite shows on my laptop. I also realized the other day that I can still see everything, just not all at once. I have two magnifying glasses that are essential for seeing some things, and I have my sweet partner to function as my eyes when I drop something and it seemingly disappears.

I have so much to be grateful for, and I never take for granted the ability I have to get outdoors and enjoy the wonderful walks and hikes that I still take every day. My doctor told me not to stop moving, it's essential for my physical and mental health, and I intend to do that for as long as possible. Tuesday the Happy Wanderers will be heading to British Columbia for a nice six-mile walk along the Fraser River, a walk that is new to me. And yesterday I got in my usual Saturday walk with my friend Steve. We went to Fairhaven along the South Bay trail and watched flocks of Canada geese, both in the water and on the boulevard. We saw lots of people whose dogs had taken their owners for a walk, and plenty of happy smiles on faces everywhere. 

Today John will pick me up and take me to our regular place for breakfast, and I'll do my puzzles and watch a bit of TV, and start my Advent calendar, which was sent to me by a friend. Advent starts today, and this calendar gives me some presents to "open" each day until Christmas. To sum everything up in a few words, "life is good." I feel very blessed to start my eighty-third year with you, my dear virtual family, and my very own special partner, who sleeps next to me as I write this.

I sincerely hope that the coming month of December, which has the longest night and shortest day (in the Northern Hemisphere, that is), and where somewhere there are carolers going from house to house, snow is falling in other places, and the gentle quiet season settles around us. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things. Be well.