On September 12, I posted a picture of my "ridge" and mused about the inevitability of the trees in the valley below turning glorious colors. Indeed they have, as shown by the picture I took last week.
I thought about other inevitabilities--the big one being death but I also wrote: "It is inevitable that I will someday throw and catch my last baseball--but will I know that moment?"
The irony of that statement I made in mid-September is that on 9/29 I had an accident vicious enough to make it come true. I'm left-handed and smashed my left shoulder to bits. The blessing is--I throw with my right hand. So I intend, once my catching arm is robust, to throw again in the spring.
The other irony is that I almost missed the turning of the leaves below my ridge. I needed to get well enough to drive and then well enough to walk on rocky paths to get up there. God is good--I made it just in time.
Now I'm going up there in the afternoons, following my therapy sessions. Already many leaves have fallen and, while I miss the colors, I am astounded at new discoveries, things I couldn't see under the tree cover.
I also spoke of the inevitability of Tasha's passing. Last week on her shaky day, that looked nearer than expected. Something has rejuvenated her and she's bouncing around this week. She's vigorous enough to come up to the ridge with me. While we still can, we'll climb up a little closer to the heavens and sing some praises.
Tomorrow in "Getting to Know You (and Your Dogs) Joyce Moccero shares her pup and a story about her mom, Flossie the Dog Whisperer.