My Southern fence line is the most productive site for varied wildflower species, followed closely by the half mile of woods path at the back of the farm. Each Spring, this patch of Early Meadow-Rue appears in the same place near the fence, lasting only a week. From a distance they look like Columbine on steroids. My pain is slowly receeding as I heal and my intention is to return to work on Monday, a week earlier than scheduled.
Received word from my thoracic surgeon, Dr. Hope Maki, that the pathology report indicates that the tumor was malignant. The particular type of lung cancer is neuroendocrine. While nobody likes to hear the "C" word, I was pleased to hear that the lymph nodes tested indicate that the cancer was compartmentalized to the middle lobe that was removed. Had I not been given the fortuitous heads up by breaking the six ribs last Thanksgiving weekend, the outcome would have been more bleak.
Many more exposures to make with the camera, trout to catch, mountains to backpack, and hours to spend with grandkids. As Tom Petty says:
It's time to move on, time to get going
What lies ahead, I have no way of knowing
But under my feet baby, grass is growing
It's time to move on, it's time to get going.