By Nancy Leasman
What do you call a pagoda crossed with a gazebo? Well, I call it a pageebo and there’s a delightful one on the edge of my woods just south of the pond.
I admit it was a bit of a wild notion. It would serve no purpose. It was too big for a birdhouse; too small for human habitation. Too big to accommodate my Twigger people (twiggerprofiles.blogspot.com). Too small for a meditation hut. It would simply be a curious addition to the landscape. Some might call it a folly.
I had read an article in a magazine about the 88 pagodas dotting a Japanese island. It’s a “thing” to follow the 700-mile circuit and visit all of the quaint temples. It’s not likely that I’ll ever do that, but it inspired me to suggest to Ron that he construct a small structure similar to these colorful ones. He surprised me when he agreed. With my sketch in hand, he came up with a five-sided, five-sectioned roof hut. He gave it a base coat of white paint and I would add some color once it was in position on the far side of the pond.
We enlisted a group of family and friends to hoist the parts onto a trailer and haul it behind the 4x4. The youthful members of the assembly assisted Ron in leveling the walls and positioning the roof. Then it was up to me.
Because the walls were only four-feet tall, I was able to paint the roof with only a three-step stool. The ground around the hut was uneven so it was a process of stabilizing the stool, climbing up, climbing down, moving the stool, up, down, up, down, up, down. I added trompe l’eoil windows and ornaments. I also placed a “found” object finial on the peak of the roof. Then to finish up the workout, I spent an hour pulling buckthorn in the area of the pageebo.
Later that day, I was exhausted and my legs felt the stress of all those ups and downs.
The next day, using the chainsaw, I cut and piled a few willows and shrubs on the north side of the pond. They partially blocked the view of the pageebo from the house so I cleared that. Then I cut a few small trees to open up the view to the field to the south. And pulled more buckthorn.
By the end of the week, though I loved that little structure in the woods, I had learned the true folly of the project. I was practically dragging my right leg, unable to lift it for proper steps. I had pain in every place except my knee joint. My posterior glute, lateral hip, posterior knee, and lower leg screamed with the slightest exertion. I had difficulty dressing, putting on socks and shoes, going up and down stairs, driving the car. Even pushing the pedal of my sewing machine hurt.
I continued my daily walks and tried to work out the strain of the work out. I limped through the woods and continued to pull buckthorn. It seemed to get better and then it wasn’t better.
Finally, after stoically soldiering on for a month, I enlisted the help of a health care professional. An x-ray of my lower back didn’t reveal any reason for the pain. A Lyme disease test came back negative. Maybe physical therapy would help.
So, I signed on for a month of two days per week meetings with the local wellness center team. They suggested it was sciatica, bursitis, strained ham string, weaker right leg (hip replacement nearly 7 years ago), and proceeded to exercise, stretch, and generally manipulate me back into normal function. And it’s better!
After nine sessions with the professionals, whom I came to admire very much, and dutifully doing the daily exercises prescribed, I was nearly pain-free.
I thought I was already strong and had good balance from all my time working outside. I was, but there was, and still is, room for improvement. I learned that moving without conscious thought is not to be taken lightly and it’s folly to think we’re invincible. And I do love that little pageebo!
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