How's that for a fanciful title? Not sure I can live up to it, and I'm rather exaggerating the woefulness. Never mind . . .
Home sick again today -- more days than I've ever taken off in a row. Ever. In fact, more days than I usually call in sick in a year. I am clearly on the mend, though, with my appetite returning and my digestive functions returning to normal, but I'm too wobbly to lecture productively or too facilitate a class discussion.
Instead, I'll catch up with some marking and probably answer student emails and definitely prepare next week's classes and figure out how I'll catch students up on material we've missed this week. I'm also going to try to get out for a walk later, although the weather is blustery and wet. I did a ten-minute walk yesterday evening and was surprised how weak I felt, and I'd like to feel a bit more sure of my strength before I head to campus tomorrow. Living on the island, with a kilometre's cycle between here and the boat, and ferry service only hourly, it behooves one to consider these things before transporting oneself far from one's own bathroom and bed. . . . Just saying.
I suspect it will take me a few weeks to get back to running the mileages I was managing just recently, and I've decided that's okay. Perhaps an enforced slowdown was just what I needed. In the last while, running had begun to feel a bit too disciplined, bordering on compulsive, and I'd like to get the joy of it back. Meanwhile, perhaps I'll do more of what Paul and I did just last Friday, walking around the neighbouring island, the whole place a wonderful provincial park with magnificent views from its magical forest trails.
The maple flowers being shaken from their pink-green sheaths, as elegantly as a well-trained French waiter shakes out a crisp linen napkin, are one of my favourite spring phenomenon. Luckily, as the flowers respond to the differences of the microclimates in which the trees grow, this phenomenon is spread over several weeks, so that while some trees were flowering at least 10 days ago, there are some in my neighbour's yard that will wait almost until the end of the month to show themselves.
Not showing herself at all is the mysterious owner of these sandals, stepping across a mossy glade, inviting us to follow . . .
If Nola had been with us, I think we might have made up a story about the sandals' owner -- a princess escaping to meet a girlfriend so they could go hunt for the dragon together in order to save the kingdom? Or just someone who wanted to be barefoot despite the still chilly temperature? The trail we walked on Friday was about 9 kilometres, although our once-sandal-footed hiker could have come across island by a shorter route. Still, I'm having a tough time imagining scenarios that could explain these sandals, their abandonment and their placement, other than someone having a good sense of narrative and playfulness both? Suggestions welcome.