Month: April 2020

More thoughts in the time of COVID-19

Wednesday, Day 41 …

Well, it’s a good thing I went in to have the tires rotated and wheels balanced.  I had to buy a new tire.  One of the ones I had on there had developed a bubble, the size of my thumb, which was explained to me as a separation.  Luckily it was under warranty, so the new one cost less than half of new.  

~~~

Thursday, Day 42 …  

As I was listening to Symphony Hall in Sirius, I began to wonder (more about “wondering” when I get back to Lewis Thomas) … I began to wonder what happens to all the talent which is never really recognized, and what is the trigger to recognize it wherever it is.  I knew an amazing pianist when I lived in Mill Valley (an aside … maybe I thought he was amazing because he called me Tondelayo).  He was so smooth at both pop and classics (as well as at flattery … at least I took it as flattery).  But he never made it in either music venue.  His choice?  Or just lack of recognition?  And how much talent is out there right now that, unless it is right near us and has training opportunities, we will never hear or see?  What are we missing?

Seeing photos of wild animals in cities made me think of where I live.  Round here, seeing “wild” animals isn’t that much of a shock.  But pumas and turkeys and goats and coyotes and deer and bears and who knows what else in the middle of cities and on empty beaches… wow.  Just another reminder that when we as a species are decimated (or gone) Gaia will survive, revive, and prosper. 

As part of the Met free downloads during these unusual circumstances, today I got to again see Lehar’s Merry Widow which Fleming did, along with Broadway stars, a couple of years ago (bet you’ve never seen opera with a Broadway gypsy chorus dancing a cancan as well as an assortment of Balkan folk dances).  Now I look forward to Rigoletto set in the Rat Pack Vegas.  I missed it the first time round.

~~~

Friday, Day 43 … 

My cousin Gretchen in Alaska is hooked on poetry and has a scary book collection (scary because it is so big and inclusive and I’m a bit envious).  She has been stacking some of them up in towers which write poems of their own if you read titles top to bottom. One example was … A quick brush of wings where the forest meets the stars, parallel worlds beyond civilization.  

Now back to Lewis Thomas starting with thoughts about poetry.  In one of his essay collections he quotes experts (?) who say poetry is not realistic enough (I forget the highfalutin’ word they used).  The idea was that a poem should say exactly what the poet means without metaphor or parable or involvement of readers.  I disagree.  To me the point of poetry is connection.  As a poet I write what I sense and feel and think.  It is an invitation to you, the hoped for reader, to meet me there with what you sense and feel and think.  We are not alone and poetry is connection, not observation.  End of opinion !!!

But still with Thomas … he was a word freak and enjoyed knowing the origins of words.  One word to which he gave attention was wonder.  It comes from an ancient Indo-European root meaning  simply to smile or laugh.  Seems he loved that word … loved its mixture of message, marvel, surprise, questioning.  And from his Late Night Thoughts on Listening to Mahler’s Ninth Symphony (published in 1983) … “Anything wonderful is something [at which] to smile in the presence of admiration (which, by the way, comes from the same root along with, of all telling words, mirror.)”  Thomas then goes on to say he enjoys making lists of things about which he wonders.  Although Thomas died in 1997, we are compatriots.  As I’ve been reading his essays, I keep coming across phrases, thoughts, ideas which resonate making me think I need to share only to find I don’t have the time or space or ability to teach you.  Some of his work is obsolete due to the passage of time but his philosophical thoughts are timeless.   As a result I will stop trying to explain him.  Go read him for yourself !!!

~~~

Saturday, Day 44 …

Watching my 8-year-old grandson play outdoors with only the dog for a companion can be wrenching.  My own children grew up fairly solitary, but they had school time with peers.  The only contact Paul has had, other than with adults, has been through chromebook school time.  I just watched him go out and walk/march through an interesting routine.  I can’t imagine what was in his head.  Maybe a ritual from one of the books he is reading.  

The current family evening read is Jeremy Thatcher Dragon Hatcher.  The dragon’s name is Tiamat.  That makes me wonder since a dragon is fire and Tiamat was a Goddess of water.  Oh well …

I spent three hours this morning running an informal from-home-during-lockdown radio net while listening to the MET Gala from all over the world.  We had radio check-ins from locals and some other places in California and Washington state.  

As for the Gala … singers participated from their homes in the US, Germany, France, Italy, Latvia, Canada, Wales, Russia, Malta, Switzerland, Spain, and Poland.  Seeing inside the homes was a blast (one married couple sang in their kitchen ending with their two kids mugging and waving) … what variety … lots of books and pianos, some bold colour schemes and a lot of neutrals all with assorted kitsch (one house in Switzerland had a mask on Wagner’s statue and a model of the Met on the piano), several fireplaces (some which are obviously used and some merely decorative), one home even sported a very large aquarium, and there were lots of flowers and plants.  But talk about miracles … there were several times we heard the Met Orchestra and chorus en toto (including the magic chorus from Nabucco) all playing and singing from their own homes.   Okay, are you bored by my interest in opera yet? I regret it if you are, but no apologies.

 Listening sparked a couple of follow-up thoughts … wouldn’t it be great if someone like Keith Richards and some guitar playing friends would do something like this, or Ringo and his drummer mates?

~~~

Sunday, Day 45…

For a few days I have been noticing that the days of yellow pollen are here.  The evergreens are doing their mating thing with May Day almost here.  Regeneration is a nice thought, but a bit messy.

The sweet cherry tree George and I planted when Mikayla was born nealy 26 years ago, and which has bloomed every year but never had a crop worth anything, is in FULL bloom.  With climate change, maybe this will be the year.  I wonder what that might portend in life for both Mikayla and her tree.  

The small, red flowers are nearly gone from the maple, replaced by small light green leaves.  Even the birch and apple trees are leafing out.  Of course, everywhere is alight with daffodils in all colour combinations.

~~~

Monday, Day 46 …

Well … opera on saturday followed by Broadway on sunday.  I missed the bashup yesterday, but am spending time today (in spurts) with those folks honoring Sondheim.  Music and more music.  Quite a contrast between opera and Broadway.  I grok them both.  And to think Sondheim lived next door to Katharine Hepburn.  I guess that’s how he knew about the calla lilies.  Wow …

Weather since friday afternoon had been overcast and chilly, but not cold.  Then today things warmed up.  This is the kind of weather that fools you into thinking you can begin gardening outdoors.

~~~

Tuesday, Day 47 …

Today was my day to pay for the enjoyment of yesterday.  I volunteered to take part in a United Way program to coalesce communities in preparation for emergencies like floods, fires, earthquakes, and plagues.  The training was to start in person the first of April.  It has been switched to the internet.  They are using the person who oversaw the creation of the learning modules as on-line leader who, it turns out, is not a good on-camera speaker.  She waves things around a lot (including her arms), says ah and uh and you know way too often.  Consequently, listening to (and watching) her is payment for yesterday’s good times.  I’ll tell you more about the project later.  

While spinning this morning I found myself philosophizing … weirdly.  I have had some mixed fiber, sitting in my stash, in gorgeous browns and yellows and oranges for quite some time.  I think it is a combination of merino and alpaca with a wee touch of glitz.  I had thought to spin it cobweb for a shawl but had given up and set it aside because spinning it was a constant battle.  Then, due to lockdown and the need to find something different to do, I got it out to try once more and it still wouldn’t spin cobweb!  I’ve been reading Illusions again and got to thinking about the freedom to do what pleases you.  Maybe that fiber wasn’t pleased with what I was trying to make it do.  Maybe it wants to be socks or a mid-weight scarf instead of a shawl.  So I tried spinning a bit heavier and kaloo kalay … so possibly inanimate things aren’t really lifeless.

I took advantage of a waxing moon in Cancer later this morning and did some planting and transplanting.  The green rose I had growing in the courtyard (because it was a favorite of my Daddy’s) had been badly damaged during the year following George’s death.  I had tried to move it last year and the ground squirrels got to it so I had given up on it.  But miracle of miracles, a fresh shoot is showing at the new site (but with a lot of dead wood as well) and an off-shoot made itself known at the old site.  With care and luck, I’ll have two green roses.  In addition, I put the new elderberry into the ground and moved a lot of prunella (all heal) into a partial sun area for a medicinal patch.  This year there will be a lot of Oregon grape, as well as gooseberries, for jelly … and of course the oregano is on its way to trying to take over.

Recipes for dandelion rosemary shortbread, dandelion lemon bars, dandelion rhubarb pie, and dandelion jelly showed up on my computer yesterday.  I have fresh rhubarb ready to pull and plenty of dry rosemary from last year and can get a lemon tomorrow and have been offered free use of a yard full of unsprayed dandelions plus what I was able to pick around our own yard … so guess what I’ll be doing thursday.

~~~

Wednesday, Day 48 …

One day last week, when I heard the lockdown had given a friend a really bad few days, I saw this and decided to share …

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

… Wendell Berry

May you find such a place wherever you are as we weather this challenge. 

And so … ‘til next week …

More thoughts in the time of COVID-19

Wednesday, Day 34 …

 I spent quite a bit of time this afternoon trying to learn how to put photos in the blog.  I know (loud sigh here) … to some folks it’s a snap.  But I found myself wading through jargon which had not a bit of meaning to me.  I refuse to give up.  I’ll keep trying and someday I will once again be able to share pictures with my words.

~~~

Thursday, Day 35 …  

Every morning I read the online Dictionary “Word of the Day”, and one day last week the word was daffydowndilly.  Did anyone else recognize it? I did from an old, old song.  So I followed the link to learn its meaning and found out it is a Brit term (of course) for a spring-time daffodil, used in fun, and most likely with at least some roots in Londontown’s East End Cockney rhyming slang.  Go ahead, do your own rhymes … pass some time with hurdy gurdy wordy fun.

Each morning, when the sky is clear, looking out my south facing window I can watch the sunlight come down the side of Mt Eddy as the sun rises.  Where I live may not be unique, but it sure is interesting.  Sunrise is tracked in a downward direction looking south.  A creek across the west side of the meadow runs uphill.  Sunset colours are best seen looking east.  The houses situated lower in altitude than mine have colder temperatures.  Unique?  Interesting?

~~~

Friday, Day 36 … 

Made a short trip to town this morning … chickens needed straw and scratch, and chicken breasts were on sale.  Wore my mask.  Stopped by a neighbor’s and said “Hi” from a distance.  Got the Landowners’ Association stuff done.  Got in some knitting time.  Spent time on courtyard planning and checking dates for planting.  Next wednesday and thursday look good for that.

Full day.

~~~

Saturday, Day 37 …

The (so far) standoff with the Watermaster District has resurfaced.  We have contacted an attorney who gave us an hour and a half of free consultation, but wants $6,000-$7,000 as a retainer.  We have $2,000 in hand. I’ll put in another $1,000 when my government booster comes in.  That leaves us ~$4,000 short.  Now if I can only convince forty people to send me $100 each, I’d have it made.  Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh … dream on.  But we’re not giving up.  Somehow we’ll find the way to get our water and our hydro-electric power back.  I have hope and faith.

~~~

Sunday, Day 38 …

Music hit me a bit hard last evening.  I had the radio on and was listening to classical music while I read.  As I read, I was enjoying the Bolero.  It had been one of George’s favorites (he had a DVD of Maya Plisetskaya dancing it, with a full male chorus line, which he enjoyed watching).  As I said , I was enjoying.  Bolero was followed by the tenor-baritone duet from Act I of The Pearl Fishers.  Another of George’s favorites.  I thought that was an interesting juxtaposition, but nice.  Next came Brahms’ 3rd Symphony followed by the Chopin Dirge Sonata.  More favorites.  By then I was no longer concentrating on reading and was wondering who had put together that play list.  Forty-five minutes later it was time for me to turn out the light and go to sleep and I was still listening to George’s music.  First thing this morning ???  Rusalka !!!  The Met’s translation of  her song to the Moon goes … Moon in the heavens, your light shines on everyone, near and far.  Moon, tell me where is my beloved? Tell him, silver Moon, that I am holding him in my arms.  Wherever he is, he should dream of me.  Tell him to wait for me.

Somehow I think that even in isolation I am not alone.

Two more 6+ earthquakes on the Ring (these both off Japan) and a small one in the LA area..  Plates are slip slidin’ …

~~~

Monday, Day 39 …

Found this on Facebook and thought it was worth repeating.

“My grandmother once gave me a tip:  In difficult times, you move forward in small steps.  Do what you have to do, but little by little.  Don’t think about the future, or what may happen tomorrow.  Wash the dishes.  Remove the dust.  Write a letter.  Make a pot of soup.  You see?  You are advancing step by step.  Take a step and stop.  Rest a little.  Praise yourself.  Take another step.  Then another.  You won’t notice, but your steps will grow more and more.  And the time will come when you can think about the future without crying.” ~ Elena Mikhalkova 

I went out for a walk around the property and made a series of discoveries.  Blooms on manzanita, lots of bulbs, and a second bloom on the plum tree.  It had already bloomed once and that bloom was knocked off by snow and ice.  With this second bloom a good crop of plums may be a miracle in the making.

In my room, the cutting from the fig tree has sent out a leaf.  I was about to give up and toss the stick.  Now a friend says she’d like to give raising it a try.  She wants some of the pussy willow starts as well.  

Last week I heard about a couple of innovative challenges to being housebound.  A bit south of us on Old Stage, neighbors in a set of four houses set up chairs and six-packs at the end of each driveway and stationed themselves with signs saying “You honk.  We drink.”  And over in Shastina an extended family celebrated a birthday by forming a group of family cars decorated with signs and flowers and parading around the  appropriate circle drive singing the Happy Birthday song out the car windows.

~~~

Tuesday, Day 40 …

The early morning trip out to the chicken house has been a pleasure this week.  The sounds of the morning (geese, sand cranes, an owl, breezes) has been accompanied by train whistles.  I treasure the sound of train whistles. 

This morning another interesting word for the day  …  Taradiddle (lots of diddling lately) … by definition a petty lie, a little falsehood or trifling told often to amuse or embellish a story.   Worth filing away for use later.

~~~

Wednesday (early), Day 41 …

This is being posted early today because I have to leave the house early.  The truck’s wheels need rebalancing and although the shop is open (“we’re essential” one repairman told me) they aren’t making appointments … first come first served.  Since I don’t like to drive in and out, and have to be in town at noon, I will stay out until everything is done.  I am not anticipating a good day.  I had thought to plant some potatoes this morning.  Maybe there will be time when I get home.

~~~

However, no sense brooding and so … Ending the week with some sage advice …

The Icelandic forestry service is encouraging people to hug trees while social distancing measures prevent them from hugging other people.

So … ‘til next week …

More thoughts in the time of COVID-19

Wednesday, Day 27 …

To start the previous post this morning I wrote “(Paul) is writing a journal.  He is actually printing … they no longer teach cursive in 2nd grade.” and within minutes of posting, I received a call from a reader (actually a cousin) in Florida challenging my use of “printing” to indicate “not cursive”.  His background is in architecture and civil engineering, and according to architects and civil engineers “printing” is what printing presses do. He tells me writing by drawing individual letters is properly called “lettering” and is done in architectural drawings and plat maps in UPRIGHT CAPS.  

It made sense when I was listening to him but now I’m having trouble distinguishing between what we do when we are writing in individual letters, both upper and lower case, rather than connected ones and what printing presses (or computer printers) do.

How’s that for a confusing way to start a blog?

~~~

Thursday, Day 28 …  

I think I’ve already told you about the mini white rose for my desk (and for dried rose petals) I bought a bit ago.  Well, I thought it had died. In the past I had not had good luck with mini roses, but hope springs eternal so I had tried again.  And as in the past, it showed every sign of dying … leaves and buds turning brown and dropping.

My older grandson had worked with a landscaper back in New York (am I repeating myself? Oh well …) and he told me it might just be stress at all the changes between the commercial nursery and here.  He was right. She is now showing oodles of bright green new leaves. Kaloo Kalay! Maybe I’ll start calling her Eleanor after the Queen who kept coming back.

Thinking of Eleanor, the book I’m reading (The Queen’s Man) has turned out to be a fun read.  I’ll have to search out more by Penman as soon as I get back to the library.

And thinking about plants … one of the Peace lily plants (from when I divided and repotted a couple of months ago) is coming into bloom!

~~~

Friday, Day 29 … 

Good Friday … a day for sorrow.  Isn’t it interesting how in spite of hope, good intentions, and effort life can occasionally whopp you?  

Interesting is turning into one of my favorite, most used, words.  Maybe because I now have time to see and listen and there are a lot of things which catch my interest.  One of the latest has been wind patterns. Looking out my east facing window I can see several tall evergreens and watching them move in the wind is a trip.  Sometimes they all seem to move together. Other times the wind will be whipping the tops around and lower branches will be moving gently, if at all … and sometimes the other way around.  And of course there are the times when big birds land on a branch or a squirrel runs along a branch and only that branch is moving. This morning, nothing is moving.

~~~

Saturday, Day 30 …

Mornings are warmer … in the mid-40s rather than the 20s and 30s.  And opening the chicken house gets earlier and earlier. Sun in my east window before 0715 with hens out talking loudly earlier and earlier.  It used to be that the brown hen with the malformed beak was the only talker. Now one of the pure blacks has joined her. I watched them a day or so ago and found that they don’t open their beaks when they talk and so wondered how we “hear” them.  I asked Mark if he knew and his answer was that they probably have resonating sinuses in their heads like dinosaurs did. Interesting …

Another wonder (as in “I wonder …”, not as in “a miracle”), during this time of enforced input diminishment, was “laughs”.  Why and at what do people laugh? I’ve known people who just laugh most of the time, especially when they are talking … even when speaking of non-funny things.  

Self-depreciation?  See, I’m laughing at me so your laughter can’t hurt me.  

With joy?  This is a really good day.  

With relief?  Wow … glad that happened to someone else instead of me. 

In disbelief?  I can’t believe that happened.  Can you believe they did/said that?  

When sharing fun?  Now that was really funny.  

And, of course, I then wonder at times when people don’t laugh.

Another earthquake … 5.8 a bit south near Bodie … with aftershocks … more activity on our section of the Ring of Fire,  this time further away from the Yellowstone caldera.

The red maple and the plum are leafing out, the apricot has bloomed, but nothing so far on the birches, apples, or the catalpa. 

~~~

Sunday, Day 31 …

Easter … Passover …  Ramadan … Celebrations this year will be long remembered.  More than one family with whom I am acquainted included a laptop or iPad at the table in order to share with friends and family.  The sun came over the Mountain here at 0700 … bright and clear. Tyler had to go to work (animals don’t differentiate holiday sundays from any other day and want to eat).  The family went to the church to do the Easter morning service and discovered parishioners had seated stuffed toys in the pews, so they weren’t doing the service in an empty house.   

 A good day.

The last two nights, as I was out to close in the hens, I heard a pair of sand cranes overhead on their way between the nesting area in the meadow and the reservoir.  I’m hearing more and more Canada geese as well.

~~~

Monday, Day 32 …

Were you aware that during WW II Britain had a “Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare”?  Intriguing.  I wonder if that meant all Geneva bets were off.  I didn’t know about that group until I saw a brief bio of Christopher Lee on the net.  Seems Dracula had some training.

My mother was born on this date one hundred twelve years ago.  To most of those alive today, 1908 was ancient history, but I remember Mama …  short, hazel eyed, soft, industrious, good shot with a hunting rifle, adaptive, rattlesnake killer, Charleston dancer, and in love with my father to the day she died.

It was reported that black bears have come down out of the mountains around Ashland, just across the border in Oregon, and are wandering the streets without challenge.  Here in the High Meadow, we live in close proximity to our indigeneous wildlife all the time, so not much change here.

Late last evening, as I was getting ready for bed (I now can’t close in the hens until 2000 … but that’s another subject), I noticed the witch hazel is budding.  There is even about an inch of new growth on the end of one branch. The elderberry has a bit of brown-off on a leaf or two so I’ll transplant it to a bigger pot.  And the first of the tomato seeds has sprouted.  

It is still too early to plant outdoors, but the time is getting closer.  

And another earthquake on the Ring … this time in the far south Pacific near New Zealand.  Most of these have been 6s or more.

~~~

Tuesday, Day 33 …

Are you still with me?  This blog is getting quite extended.  Must be the isolation. I don’t think I’m observing or thinking more than usual.  But I am talking less, with such a limited number of folks available to listen, and so you are being required to read more.  Oh well …

I have always been pretty good at writing.  I used to be proud of my cursive … maybe too proud.  Now, with the “essential” tremor, if and when my hand is steady enough to handwrite my pride is no longer so full of hubris.  Besides, I find I compose my best letters etc. in bed as I am falling asleep. Too bad that technology isn’t yet to the place where thoughts can be automatically written (printed) someplace and so be available in the morning.

On the subject of morning, the morning sun has gotten so far north that I now live in a room full of rainbows (from the window crystals) every sunny day.  Nice …

Yesterday evening I watched the Met’s streaming of Renee Fleming’s “Rusalka” from a production in 2014.  The “Song to the Moon” from the first act (about 23 minutes into the Met recording) is one of George’s favorite arias.  “Rusalka” is a Czech telling of the same fairy tale as Anderson’s “Little Mermaid”, but with a very different ending. Listening to the opera, I tried to tune my ear to the sound of the Czech language.  George’s paternal grandparents spoke “Bohemian” at home and his grandfather introduced teaching Czech in Chicago public school curriculums back at the turn of the 20th century.  It didn’t stick, George’s father didn’t use the language, and George knew very little of it. It has a different sound … not Russian nor German.  And listening to it made me wish I weren’t language limited. The best time to learn language(s) is early childhood and our schools are failing … to our disadvantage.  In my next life, I hope to be multi-lingual.  

All these thoughts because George enjoyed listening to the “Song to the Moon”.

~~~

Wednesday , Day 34 …

I spent several hours today trying to get some pictures into the blog.  There is still much to learn.

And finally a thought from an interesting Passover essay …

Like the Israelites who mimicked Miriam’s vitality to gain their footing in a desolate place, so should we be inspired to replenish ourselves — drained by the emotional toll of what feels like an apocalypse — and quench our thirst with music, art, and dance.

I’m bingeing on Doc Martin, watching operas, reading a mystery set in 1193, learning about musicians of whom I’d not heard (Kenny G), enjoying sunrises, watching Paul learn, researching the family of Moses and the lesson carried by his parents, contacting family and friends (to keep tabs on who will be where when the lockdown is over), traveling virtually, watching plants grow and leaf out and flower, keeping the clock wound …

So … ‘til next week …

More thoughts in the time of COVID-19

Thursday, Day 15 … It was announced yesterday that all local schools are closed until next fall.  Paul was issued an iPad (or something similar … a chromebook?) on which he does his homework, talks with his teacher, and interacts with classmates.   He is writing a journal. He is actually printing … they no longer teach cursive in 2nd grade. He and I talked about how sometime in the future someone might be interested in how an 8-year-old boy experienced this pandemic and it seems his teacher had the same idea. 

Sign of a good teacher?!

~~~

Friday, Day 16 … I am in the throes of switching banks.  The one with which I have been banking for oh so many years has been sold and the new owners seem to have decided to switch from being a local server to being a big business bank and have started charging fees for everything.

Because I have Social Security and my pension straight deposited, I have had to make sure those deposits were sent correctly and then switch all the source information for paying my bills online.  It was done with only a minimum of bad language.

~~~

Sunday, Day 17 … It is snowing again/still.  Spoke with my chosen sister in LA this morning.  Our grandson/great nephew will soon be thirteen and his Bar Mitzvah had been scheduled for the end of May at the family Temple (Isaiah, in LA).  That is now on hold, as is my trip south.

Mark’s church is doing services live each sunday morning during the lockdown.   This morning, due to the snow, the house lost power. I got out my Bible and a Bible Story Book from back in the 30s so Paul and I could do our own Sunday School lesson about Palm Sunday.  Because Passover was the reason for going to Jerusalem, we learned a bit about Passover as well.

I now have my very own beautiful facemask (complete with removable, washable insert) thanks to Jennie, one of the ladies from St Barnabas.  I’ll be right in style the next time I venture out, plus there is now a souvenir to put with family pictures once this is past.

My Sis and I also spoke about the lack of notices in re the posting of blogs.  I lost my contact list when my old computer died and I have yet to make contact with someone in Yreka who is said to be able to retrieve info off a dead hard drive.  I will continue to plan on that since a lot of my genealogical research was on that drive as well. But until then I am trying to reconstruct that list. If you haven’t been getting the weekly notice, and want to, contact me at wilma@dibelka.us and I’ll see you are added to the list.  

And this seems a good time to say THANK YOU to all of you who choose to read this blog.  It keeps me feeling alive and connected.

~~~

Monday, Day 18 … Snow started a bit after 0600.  This is turning out to be a really interesting start to April … no fooling.

On my way into the store a few days ago, before the snow started, I saw a pair of Canada geese down at the reservoir.  Only one pair. Makes me wonder how all the migratory birds are handling this weird weather … not yet Spring and yet no longer really Winter.

A couple of days ago I went through the almanac checking the moon signs for the next few months and marking my calendar in re the best planting days.  Now if it will warm up so the dirt can can be worked …

Oh well …

~~~

Tuesday. Day 24 … I started thinking this morning about counting the days and thought ‘It’s been more than three weeks.’  So I took down the calendar and counted.  Sure enough, I was off by almost a week. Oh well …

This morning the sky is clear, but it isn’t much above freezing.  More plants to rejuvenate the courtyard garden are due to arrive this week.  All I can do is keep them warm and watered in my room until the weather turns and I can take them outdoors.  My new elderberry is having a bit of a struggle (it probably could do with a bigger pot) and the witch hazel isn’t yet budding although it seems, to my expectant eyes, there is slight swelling at some growth nodes.

The brown turkey fig tree is showing its appreciation at being upstairs with me.  A new shoot off the root has nearly tripled in height, and the two cuttings I put in water are both showing terminal buds although I haven’t seen any roots yet.  

Last week I did some pussy willow cuttings to see if I could get them to root and only one has failed to join the race to see who can grow the most new roots the fastest.  I will have at least nine or ten starts to set out along a creek in a month or so. I think pussy willows are great welcome signs of Spring.

Also last week I rediscovered Lewis Thomas in one of my stacks of books.  My teacher had given me copies of some of his essays years ago. I remember scanning them, but never did an in-depth read.  Wow … I’m currently into “The Fragile Species” with essay titles like “The Life in the Mind” and “In Time of Plague” and “Science and the Health of the Earth“.  Copyright date is 1992.  A time of plague, like now, seems to be a time to relearn.  

I am getting hungry for a bit of easy reading however.  I may try Denman’s “The Queen’s Man” next.  I’ve always been interested in Eleanor. 

~~~

So here it is wednesday again … here’s a toe tapper to start a new week …

… and here’s a thought to make you smile …

Let your mind be as a floating cloud. Let your stillness be as a wooded glen. And sit up straight. You’ll never meet the Buddha with such rounded shoulders

                        (From the book “ZEN JUDAISM” by David M Bader)

So … ‘til next week …

Thoughts in the time of COVID-19

Thursday … Day 7 of the California lockdown … As of this morning, the report is that worldwide nearly five hundred thousand people are infected and more than twenty-one thousand have already died.

I saw a headline asking “What caused this pandemic?” written by a Time magazine reporter.  I read the entire article and the list of causes boiled down to just one cause  … US !   Not the USA.   US.   All of us.   Too many of us.  

Earlier, while reading on a genealogical site, I came across a paean noting a man who, in four generations, had over a thousand descendants.  I once worked with a woman who in three generations had close to three hundred descendants (not counting in-laws). And just a mile or so north of where I live I know of a woman who had eight living children, was pregnant, and was just over thirty which left her a decade with a still viable reproductive system.

… and all of this appeared to be laudable.  

Not to me.  But if I said so aloud I was attacked, scolded, shunned.

A pandemic has been prophesied over and over … in scientific journals, books, magazine articles, songs, TED talks, movies, …  

A scientist who wrote a book titled “Zero Population Growth” back in the 80s was essentially discredited.  Does anyone remember his name without googling it?

Population growth resulted in too many people which led to the emphasis on “I’ve got to get all I can get as fast as I can in order to protect me and mine … regardless.”  

Think about it.  

Money greed … a few much too wealthy.  

Status greed … admiration based on superficials.  

Space greed … cities which make the tenements of turn-of-the-20th-century Manhattan look spacious … and massive destruction of nature so the few can make more wealth building more “tenements” so they can be the “company boss” to whom the others “owe their souls” (a nod here to Tennessee Ernie Ford).

Food greed … a population in which 10% or less are overfed and overweight and the others are either getting by or starving. 

And all this has led to climate change which, hand in hand with too many people, is releasing unknown life-forms, which had previously been held in stasis but which are now able to attack people who are so tightly packed together, living in increasingly unhealthful environments composed of pollution. And this new life form is able to replicate nearly unobstructed. 

“What caused this pandemic?” 

WE DID.

End of day 7 rant …

~~~

Something about the current situation came up in a conversation with Mark about amateur radio.  In our area, there has been sporadic talk about the function of amateur radio in today’s world.  Of course, that is now yesterday’s world. So is there a role for hams in today’s world?

Part of the agreement allowing free use of frequencies is that such use be paid for with Health and Welfare services.  You’ve heard me talk about this in reference to the radio club’s events.  

I just received notice of the cancellation of the second of the events for which we have supplied Health and Welfare coverage in years past. I fully anticipate them all will be cancelled.  So what do we do instead?

During the regular club net this evening, I intend to volunteer to be listening on air every afternoon at 1500 just to say “hello … how are you?” and to be a center for coordination of action(s) to fill any needs which may arise.  I can’t be the one doing shopping or deliveries, but I can be the one offering information and/or arranging coverage.  

Maybe it will trigger a resurgence of interaction, and maybe not.  I’ll let you know.

~~~

We’ve been consistently having rain with light snow.  In spite of the interesting weather, the red maple is trying, the apricot bloomed, the plum is putting out leaves, Tyler has sown vegetable seeds indoors to be ready to transplant in five or six weeks, and daffodils are sprouting with an occasional bloom.  

The witch hazel and new elderberry arrived and are here in my room awaiting their move outdoors when I am able to get the area ready.  The herb plants will be arriving next week.  

Oh well …

~~~ 

And speaking of plants … just before the lockdown began I bought a miniature rose plant to add to my indoor garden and to supply dried rose petals.  I did just as advised and avoided watering too heavily. But it began drying up and dropping leaves and buds.  

Tyler worked for a landscaper back in New York, so I asked him for advice/information.  He said he had a similar experience once and told me to just wait. Well … the poor thing went from looking poorly to looking terrible to looking dead.  I kept it damp, not wet, and held onto hope. And surprise of surprises, as I looked at it just now I see new leaves appearing.  

Of course, it still looks poorly but now I have hope.

~~~

This stay-at-home time is being filled for me with Landowners’ Association stuff as well as radio stuff.  When I finish here, I will begin drafting an outline for an interview, for broadcast on the local community television, with the neighbor who is handling the fire prevention preparation activity around here.

Then I’ll get to work on creating a report on Ranch activities, in lieu of the forbidden face-to-face meeting of the Association Board of Directors, followed by the report on cancelled (or not) radio events followed by calls to some friends to see how they are faring.  Somewhere in there I’ll make a meatloaf, do some yarn plying, and maybe knit a bit.

~~~

I’ve mentioned before that we have begun having noticeable earthquakes within 500 miles of our volcano.  We not only have the volcano, but we are in the area where three major land masses are in collision and which also contains the Yellowstone super-caldera.

Latest earthquake was a 6.5 in Idaho about 200 miles west-northwest of Yellowstone.

~~~

Here we are in the 13th day of the California Shelter-at-Home order. 

May we live in interesting times.

The following is paraphrased for the current situation …

Life is meaningful and everything that happens brings a lesson. This means that if one stubs his toe he should not get angry at the stone he tripped over, but he should ask himself, “Why did this happen?”  Perhaps the current lesson is that we should watch what is happening and think about where we have been going and what we have been doing.

So … ‘til next week … stay safe.