On Tuesday my left foot suffered an injury and I suffered a bit of indignation that a Good Samaritan deed should have been thus rewarded.
Firstly the parable of the Good Samaritan and the sore foot.
The Lady Good Samaritan performed a dangerous manoeuvre to avoid a trailer tail gate laying across the road. Narrow road, blind corner…very bad. Guilty conscience. So the good lady stops at the nearest place where there is room to get off the road. Gets out of car and walks back to the offending tail gate, picks it up and hauls it off the road. No, not good enough, says the conscience. Someone will be looking for it. So hauls it a bit further to where it can to propped up against a bank and more easily spotted. Still not good enough. It’s too low to be easily seen, needs to be pushed a bit higher up the bank. From whence it slips down the bank and lands on her foot!
There’s a lesson in there somewhere!!
Having a sore foot brings its own rewards. Yesterday, while I was sitting on the couch with my foot raised and eight year old Georgia cuddled up beside me being suitably sympathetic, she gave a start and looked out the window behind me. I turned to see what she had seen, saw nothing and asked, “What?”
She replied she thought it had been Lewey. When I reminded her that Lewey, my dear old dog, has been dead since last March, she explained, “You know how Lewey didn’t bark much? Well, there is no dog barking, so I thought it might be Lewey.” I just love that logic!
When Lewey died I buried him in my back lawn and planted a Loropetulum Firedance above him to mark the spot. I chose that plant very carefully. It has dark pinky/reddish leaves and pretty pink flowers. Lewey had been a reddish coloured dog and in old age with more grey than red in his coat, he often looked quite pink. The lady at the garden centre told me it would be flowering in April, on the anniversary of his death. I always refer to it as my Lewey Bush. About a month ago Georgia was running around in the back yard and exclaimed, “Oops, I nearly tripped on Lewey. Granny, come quick, Lewey is flowering!” Sure enough, he is. He must flower all summer.