Could the Captain be right?

 I'm starting to believe the Captain may be right about me. 

Generally, I shake off his admonitions that I should slow down before I embark on projects. The last few days has me rethinking that I might actually be a danger to myself.

It all started when I was on the roof trying to get the last of the vines off my garage. 

I'd tried to be smart and had gotten the ones from the sides that I could reach from a ladder securely planted in the ground. Then, I Army crawled underneath the behemoth evergreen shrubs that run the full width of the back of the garage and cut them from the root level.

Did I get sticks and evergreen needles in my hair? Did I get scratched up? Did random tiny branches nearly poke my eyes out? Yes to all of that. (To be honest, I was mostly on the watch for snakes and happily found none.) 

In the bush's defense, I had it coming. I'd earlier hacked into some semblance of control. It's a beautiful bush, full and verdant, but some of its branches were nearly to the roof, and it had covered the garage window. 

That adventure had me laying a ladder across the bush to get at the branches in the back with a hand tool - the one that you can clip small branches with, not the smaller clipper that you can snip off dead flower blossoms and small vines. Loppers vs.  hand pruners, I guess. I'd employed both in that project but there were branches at the back that I couldn't reach. I stopped trying to get them when the ladder started to sink into the bush ala Homer Simpson but top to bottom rather than slinking into the evergreen upright.

So the bush is shorter, but remains uneven. I was doing a great job being patient, waiting for Jeff, who was away this weekend and had stuff going on last week and couldn't get to shaving it even with the electric trimmers.

But those vines were still there, and I couldn't reach them either.

So I moved the ladder to the lowest portion of the roof and climbed up. I was laying on my stomach, reaching down to get the offending vegetation from the back of the garage when gravity reminded me that I'm a chubby woman edging past middle-age. I could literally feel the Earth/bush calling to me, pulling me down.

I'm not stupid. I abandoned the vines and crawled back from the abyss. It was hot, and I was sweaty. I might have also been a little light headed. Maybe from dehydration and lack of eating yet that day (not that I don't have reserves...) or maybe from fear. I don't know. Regardless, I get myself to the ladder and start to back down and found that I couldn't quite reach the rung that would bring me back to safety. When I tried again, the ladder kind of wobbled backward like it might fall backward.

I looked down at the yards of concrete and, I'm ashamed to say, I might have considered giving up.

Bec was coming over later in the day, and I knew she'd save me. But it was still morning, and she wasn't due until 5 p.m. I was sweaty, covered in dirt from crawling on the ground, dehydrated and hungry. I was sitting up there, contemplating a second pass when I heard a voice, an actual voice, not a figment of my imagination, though I wasn't certain at first. It was coming from across the fence.

My neighbor, Joe, had been enjoying the morning with a book or coffee or something, on his back patio. Because he's sweet, he didn't disclose whether he'd seen or heard all of my morning adventures under and above the bush, but he did ask if I wanted some help. He came over, held the ladder and I was on terra firma again.

It was later, when I was putting the ladder away that the injury came, and here's a pro tip if you ever use an extension ladder: When the portion of the ladder that you've extended comes back to its un-extended position, it comes back fast. Like, so fast that if you're not expecting it, it can smash your wrist. And it will hurt. A lot.

I go back inside, Google what to do if you smash your wrist, grab some ice and hold it in a towel on my throbbing wrist, and choke down some Ibuprofen. I shower as best I can with one hand and sit down with more ice. I return to Google to be sure I'm doing it all right. I elevate my wrist and turn on Grantchester.

I say it started on the roof. It actually started on the ground in the back yard where we've been tearing out a chain link fence that has been held up, mostly, by vines and small trees. I did a bunch of work to clear it out, and Jeff took down what I couldn't, using brute strength and the chainsaw.

I've been trying to clean up the yard waste, fence posts, tree branches, vines, etc... intending to call a hauling service.

As I did that, I encountered a small forest of pokeberry weeds. From my childhood, I remembered them as ink berries, and I remember smashing the berries and smearing the "ink" on probably my body or other things. 

Turns out, it's pokeweed, and there is no part of it that isn't poisonous.

I wore boots, long sleeves, long pants and gloves for most of the work but one day I went out in shorts and a tank top. So I have four parts of my body that have smallpox-like blisters on it. One of those places is the underside of my smashed wrist. I'd been treating it with calamine lotion and vinegar and have moved on to hydrocortisone, which seems to be doing the trick. I thought it was poison ivy at first, but there's no poison ivy back there. Just the pokeweed forest.

I'm happy to report that I'm on the mend. The wrist swelling stopped and most of the blisters are gone. I have some bruises but I didn't actually fall off the roof and I don't intend to ever go back up there. 

Most of the debris is bagged up, and I've uncovered a vast well of patience that will let me live with the remaining stumps until Jeff's schedule -- and the weather -- allow their removal, which will open up new ground for adding non-poisonous plants. I thought I was past the danger zone. 

But this morning, after covering up and doing a little more cleanup, I decide to reward myself by addressing my chipped nails. As I pulled down my mani/pedi basket from my bedroom closet shelf, a pair of scissors from my sewing basket fell down and almost speared my bare foot.

I might need a babysitter. 

Definitely a gardener. 

And more hydrocortisone.

It's storming here, now. It's so dark the street lights have come on. Mother Nature may be trying to get me another way. I'm staying away from knives, scissors and windows. Light a candle for me.