It’s finally spring. Did you do anything to celebrate its arrival?

I celebrated with my annual physical. As you age, somehow, one trip to the doctor multiplies into half a dozen appointments that stretch out for months. Middle age is not for the faint of heart. It would appear that among all the poking and prodding in my future, I’m up for another colonoscopy this year.

I’m sure you’re well aware that at Rural Sprout, you’ll rarely find us on a soapbox preaching to our readers. We tend to stick with what we know, and that’s playing in the dirt.

I lost my mother nine years ago to colon cancer that had metastasized to her liver. She was diagnosed at age 55 and passed at age 58. She never got a colonoscopy, not until after her diagnosis. She kept putting it off, making excuses, and grumbling about the prep like so many of us do.

Her oncologist told her six months into her chemotherapy that the colon tumor was completely gone, and now they had to worry about her liver. 

Mom was the biggest advocate for colonoscopies after that. She hounded every friend, family member and stranger on the street.  

Because of my mom, I got to start getting them much earlier than most, and I have to say, I heartily recommend them.

It’s the best nap you’ll ever have.

I often think about mom when I’m puttering in the garden.

She had a garden nearly every year.

Or at least, she had the intention of having one. Usually, it amounted to putting seeds in the ground, keeping up with it for a month or two, and then forgetting it until it was an overgrown mess covered in snow.  

I’ll bet she would have loved Rural Sprout. And I’ll bet I would have received a phone call after she read this Sunday’s newsletter, giving me an earful for telling everyone what a terrible gardener she was.

Alright, it’s a bit drafty up here on my soapbox, so I’m getting down now to go back to playing in the dirt. Go get your colonoscopy, so we can all keep playing in the dirt.