Ouch. A silly hand injury. In today's first gardening session I stabbed my right hand with a thorn from the Gleditsia tree. In it went, the large, nasty thing, a long way in. Pulled it straight out and continued working for two hours - as one does. Trimmed more Lychnis, removed more weeds, rammed the spade into dry soil digging the edge of the driveway border. Time for a break. Came inside, played some fast Bach on the piano for an hour. Hand started hurting. Hmm. Now there was a problem. The Bach?
Then my whole hand, wrist, and fingers were aching and throbbing, too much to be ignored. I took two pills, lay down on my bed, and cried. Unbelievable that a mere thorn stab, though a deep one, could reduce a tough gardener to tears. Ouch! It wasn't long before my whole hand had totally stiffened up. Impossible to do any gardening or play the piano with just one hand. I did a major sulk - this just wasn't fair! Rubbed Arnica on, even thought about putting wrist in a sling. Went back to bed in a bit of a mood.
Hand is still swollen. But nothing alarming has happened (like skin turning red) and the aching is duller. Have spent the day shifting hoses, playing with the kittens, walking around my colourful garden with the dogs, and reading detective stories.
Red Fred on the Leaning Gum Tree
The kittens are growing fast, and are climbing new trees daily. The roses, bless them, seem to be flowering again. Everywhere I look there's something colourful. And whenever I look down - oops - weeds that need pulling out. Such is life. My left hand is a bit hopeless on its own.
Three hot days later...
I'm sorry, but gardening with one hand in thirty degrees heat has not been appealing. I've been watering, wandering, and peering at my puffy hand (it's a pianist's thing, this obsession with a minor hand injury).
Bee on a Dahlia
And I have a confession. Non-Gardening Partner, bless him, understanding my quirkiness, has recorded a TV programme for me - hours of unedited rail journeys in New Zealand, cameras mounted front, back and side of the train. There's no commentary, just that lovely clickedy-clack railway sound. There are loads of tunnels in New Zealand, so the screen goes black for up to two minutes, hee hee.
Yesterday I travelled, nursing my hand, kittens on my lap and the air conditioning on, for five hours. Today, so far, I've managed two more. Hee hee. I'm loving this lazy mid-summer couch life!
And finally, some good hand news. This morning there were welcome wrinkles on hand's skin, and all my fingers were easier to waggle. Phew. Have decided that I really, really, really must wear protective gardening gloves. And watch much more carefully what I pick up and handle. Let this be a lesson to me.