It is a warm, sunny May long weekend, which is when us south-eastern Canadian go gardening nuts. So far today I have planted my tomato plants, chives, asparagus, a new hunk of decorative grass and some woolly thyme. I have also moved a big hunk of not-so-decorative decorative grass from a primo garden spot to the garden equivalent table right by the bathrooms to make room for some pretty stuff like echinecea.
It sounds impressive, if you ignore the fact that it was only 3 tiny tomato plants and the chives and asparagus are about 2 inches high. The truth is, it is a pathetic showing for a gardener with a lovely day. My fibromyalgia is flaring. I am utterly fatigued. All The Time. Every muscle feels weak and overused and a 70-year-old man would beat me in a foot-race right now. I sit on the ground and plant for a bit, getting my kids to bring me soil and plants, then I go inside to lie down for a bit, then back out to the garden for a bit.
It’s pissing me off, I have to say, but I’m trying to be positive about it. At least it is a lovely day. At least the children like to help. At least no one is suggesting that I should be washing dishes or doing laundry instead of being outside on such a beautiful day (or, at least, no one in this house). At least I can still get out and garden a bit.
Okay, back to the dirt.
Dangit! I’m sorry to hear about the flare. I can totally relate to the fatigue. I’m doing okay right now, but I’ve been wiped out like that too on occasion. I’m hoping yours is a short flare.