Whether I like it or not, I am aging. I didn’t think about this much when I was in my teens and early twenties because I was too busy saving whales or figuring out how to plant an organic garden. But now that I’m older, I realize time waits for no one – not even for gardeners and conservationists.
Personally, I don’t mind getting older, but my body is having issues with it. Yesterday in my outdoor yoga class my pelvic floor hit rock bottom during the Kegel exercises, and I distinctly heard my back growl when I assumed the downward dog position. Later, when I tried to prune an overgrown Kwanzan cherry tree, my hips refused to climb beyond the third level of a step ladder and my vestibular system informed me that my sense of balance was not what it used to be. I don’t believe these things happen because my body dislikes me. Rather, it simply doesn’t understand the scientific premises of aging.
Take gravity for example. My body doesn’t trust something it can’t touch, or preferably, eat alongside a cup of warm, sweet tea. Point well made. If Nobel Prize winners in physics can’t unravel the mysteries of gravity, how can I expect my humble, aging body to comprehend it? All it knows is that my breasts try to suffocate me every time I bend over to pull a weed and the ongoing descent of my butt down the back of my legs means I will eventually turn into a pear.
Weight gain and advancing age? Don’t even go there. My body is at a complete loss as to how everything I now eat and drink bypasses the normal metabolic pathways of my stomach and intestines, preferring instead, the direct route to my hips and thighs.
And finally, there’s exercise. My heart still enjoys a good walk in the park or a day well spent tending to the flowers. But with increasing regularity, it also enjoys a relaxing glass of wine, a hammock in the sun, and the intoxicating scent of hyacinths. If one adheres to the theory that the human heart is pre-programmed to beat a finite number of heartbeats over the course of a lifetime, then my body would much rather prefer to spend time with a bottle of Moscato while listening to the birds sing over sweaty feet and chronic tendinitis. My ever-maturing body is an enigma.
Fortunately, my mind provides perspective for the frequent castigations I receive from my aching joints. I usually maintain a cheerful outlook and I’ve learned to appreciate the little miracles of life; like the first flush of April crabapple blossoms and a great BOGO sale on relaxed-fit cotton/spandex leggings with an all-elastic waistband. However, I must admit, the constant barrage of ads for “age-defying” creams and procedures which promise to nip, tuck, suck, cut, and freeze my body into a younger version of itself can be deflating.
Still, I have hope. I look forward to the day when a national magazine publishes its first issue of, “The Cellulite, Knee Replacement, and Over 40 Gardeners’ Edition.” Until then, I will continue to celebrate my laugh lines, my love handles, and my growling back- right after I give myself a manicure and soak my aching feet following another perfect day in the garden.
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About Mother Nature’s Apprentice
Dr. Pam Lehenbauer (AKA Mother Nature’s Apprentice) has won several awards for gardening, landscaping, and creating sustainable wildlife habitats. Pam writes about offbeat topics related to gardening, nature and the environment, society, life, and the awkward and embarrassing events which frequently occur in her life.
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