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I netted the fig tree. I planted five yellow flowering plants and four purple flowering plants. I tore up a decomposing tomato barrel, threw away the pieces, and dispersed the dirt. I did the same for two other rotten containers. I took four tropicals that didn’t come in hanging baskets and re-potted them into hanging baskets. I planted four plugs of a crawling ground cover. I planted eight red flowering plants and three white and green speckled plants. I re-potted a Boston fern and an asparagus fern. Then I got on my bike and rode.

As soon as I pressed the pedal, exhilaration surged through me. The same thing happens when I curve my palm into the water swimming the American Crawl. It happens when I dip the paddle into the Gulf and my kayak chops the waves. Walking does not do that for me, which is the only limited activity my re-hurt back has relegated me to since March.

Fate gave me the knowledge of what makes me happy. If the injured back (plus the pool closing for two weeks and a cancer spot on my finger) hadn’t forced me out of the pool, I wouldn’t have rediscovered the kayak and bike. The contrast between these activities and walking wouldn’t have presented itself. I wouldn’t know that in incredible motion lies my happiness.

So let us praise the difficulties that open new learnings. If only we are willing to train our eyes to see them.

The Mississippi Gulf under a grey sky and white caps where I ode my bike after I had re-potted my plants.
The beach where I rode my bike after all the re-potting.

bike riding on the Gulf, fate, re-potted plants

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