January 24, 2004 ~ Sun Midst the Darkness
Saturday.
The old-fashioned heavy glass light cover slipped as I was changing the light bulb in the living room ceiling light. Fell and hit me squarely on the head, then shattered spectacularly on the hardwood floor, into a thousand pieces that flew to every corner of the living room. I groaned and sunk into a squat on the kitchen chair I'd been standing on, held my head and tried to blink the stars and dimness out of my eyes.
Morgan, at my side instantly after hearing the noise from the other room, helped me to the couch. Pressure behind my eyes, tears welling up. Not sure if they were from the pain, or from my anger at myself for not holding the cover more securely.
"Um. Stay there. I'll be right back," Morgan said, running back into the other room, to his computer.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing. Stay there." *type type type*
"Morgan?"
"I'm just... um. Stay there."
"How about I just tell you how to treat a head wound, instead of waiting for you to search for it on Google."
"Hey!"
"Ice. On my head. Real simple. I don't think I have a concussion, but you can ask me simple questions like my name and address every half hour if it'll make you feel better. If I start acting disoriented or lose my memory, then you can worry."
He came back in looking disgruntled that I knew exactly what he had been doing.
"You should take a First Aid class." I said. "It does make me a little nervous that you don't know CPR."
"I know. I should."
First aid advice in the high-speed broadband age: Google. Silly man.
(It happened last night. Feeling much better, now, don't worry. Only a bump on my head, nothing serious.)
I've not been running on an even keel this week. Somewhat melancholy, not able to really get much out in writing. I can't quite pin down how I feel. Something nagging in the corners, which will work itself out eventually.
I've been gentle with myself. Hiking more, reading more, taking time to sit in the sun, eating a lot more fresh vegetables and fruit--which, in the winter months, are sometimes lacking. Forgiving myself for not being productive, thinking, thinking, and thinking. Hot showers, comfortable clothes, time with Morgan.
The Co-Op has some spectacular local organic yellow bell peppers right now. Sweet, crisp, completely unflawed, perfectly ripe, and a luminous yellow. I have been buying them like apples, bringing them home, cutting them into strips, and dipping them raw into dressing. That burst of flavor, so alive, so fresh and nourishing. Moist, tangy, sweet. I've been eating them as if they are candy, though they're better than candy. They make me feel good, and whole, and happy. That's quite a pepper, folks.
So much of a pepper, in fact, that I had to pause after writing that to go eat another one.
Morgan has been quite obliging in my wish for more fresh and growing things on the menu lately. Salads. Sweet potato, bell pepper, and tempey stir fry with a blood-orange sauce last night. Night before, he found some organic fresh pineapples, even, and stuffed each half of one with fried vegetables and rice:
Today, Morgan and I went for a hike together along Dam Pasture Trail and talked. It was a good hike, and an even better talk.
I've been holding moments from the week with me, feeling their warmth. The sun shining through golden leaves on Suicide Ridge:
Light setting the forest shimmering, from the pine needles to the laurel leaves:
The twisted, weathered stump along Cold Springs:
Sitting under a tree on Dogwood Pasture Wednesday, enjoying the late-afternoon sunlight on my face:
Sitting under the rhodies on Jones Mountain, letting the chill seep in:
The ice crystals that grew up out of the ground all along Big Timber Trail and Barefoot Trail, which made a delicious crunch crunch crunch as I walked:
The varieties of mushrooms and fungus I saw around the base of Jones Mountain:
One of my favorite spots along Dam Pasture Trail, with the light streaming in:
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