Shelter-in-Place Day 55

Tonight in my local poetry workshop (via zoom, of course), a few poets shared prose poems or poems that reminded us all of journal entries. They were solid pieces - I don't mean to belittle them in any way by making the comparison. But it was interesting. 

It was also interesting how many common themes or images we, as a group, seem to be presenting. I've seen this happen before in other poetry groups, and it feels like a sort of collective consciousness at work. This week, there are dogs in the poems. That week, crows. Now the branches of trees. Now cars, now playing with time. With music. Who knows how synchronicity works? I find it fascinating, regardless.  

We had rain today, and yesterday, another death in the county, bringing the total to four and, I think, pushing out the return-to-normal (or whatever "normal" will be) timeline that much further. The Johns Hopkins site lists 4.1 million reported cases, over 80,000 deaths in the U.S. More worrisome, to me, are the cases of children showing symptoms of something like Kawasaki diseases related to covid19. That kind of thing - side effects, mutations - could really launch one into a panic. On the other hand, more and more people seem to be wanting to congregate. What? Why? asks the introvert who read post-apocalyptic fiction as a child...

On a completely different note, although related to Mother's Day, I recently started to go through a box of old toys and dolls from my childhood, D's childhood, and from the recently-departed childhood of our own kids. One of the things I found, in triplicate, was a stuffed dog with jingle bells in its ears that was my first stuffed animal, whom I called "ba-ba." Maybe it was a dog and I thought it was a lamb. But then again, the greyhound and whippet-type strays we owned when I was little were called "Rabbit" and "Bambi," so it might not be surprising if I was a little confused about which animals were which. This photo shows the horrifying progression of decay from what must have been the first iteration (unless this was something my mother or brothers owned) to the last (which was undoubtedly my sister's but not as well...loved...by her as it must have been by me). The note on the red edition was penned by my mother. 

 

I documented them with the camera and thanked them and let them go. Perhaps when my poetry group meets next, skin horses will appear in the stanzas. 

Shelter-in-Place Day 54 - Mother's Day

I was blessed to be able to spend most of the day with the kids, hanging out. We didn't do anything special; it was just a nice day. I did check one of the hives - only to find workers dispatching a queen, which tells me she wasn't a good layer, or there's another queen in the joint, or both. I'll have to check back in a few days when the weather's better to see what I can see.  And I started a new fitness regimen which left me surprisingly tired and sore for such a short workout.  

In honor of Mother's Day, here's to my two moms - the one who raised me, and who still visits my dreams at least once a week, fourteen years after her death:

Allison, 1936-2006

Diane, 1948-2015

...and the one who gave birth to me as a teenager, and whom I still miss after nearly five years without her.  I was doubly blessed. I can still hear their laughter without much effort. Such great women. It's just a weird coincidence that the pictures I found to best represent them here are shots in hats. 

I am grateful that they're not having to live through this pandemic, mostly because they both faced health challenges, and the fear of the virus would have been frightening and stressful. 

But then again, I can't help but wish they were here. 

Grief comes with its own brand of selfishness. 
        

Shelter-in-Place Day 53

Another hot day, and one which I spent gardening and meeting with friends at a 6' distance in a backyard (BYOB). I collected patterns for making masks but did not yet make them - which gives me a Mother's Day task. N. came by for S. to help her with a hair dye job (from faded green tips to purple tips). S. read more of book two of her fantasy novel series to me.

I am perilously close to "tea with the Smiths" here, but it was a blissfully uneventful day. And somehow, I don't care that I don't have profound or clever thoughts to report. . I am content and hopeful that tomorrow will be a good day. A part of me wonders whether this is because there were a few niggling things that have been resolved: an email I'd needed to send sent, the Jaguar gone, a leak I was worried about in the front yard inspected and seen to be nothing serious, laying some stones in place, witnessing pollen going in to the new hive.... It really is the little things. Also, I have strengthened anew my resolve to eat healthfully and get into better shape, and recording that in a blog that at least one person sometimes might maybe read makes it so very official, too. So there's that.

Shelter-in-Place Day 52

Today was a significant day for our family, because it marked the departure of what had been a landmark in our driveway for *ahem* years. The 1990 V12 Jaguar convertible, which we called "M." (because who is a cooler British female than Dame Judi Dench as M?)

Note the mask-and-glove wearing man who did the pick up. A sign of the times.  

  There is a longer story behind all this, but the short version is that while this vehicle, which D. purchased for $1, was fun while it lasted, it had become an albatross that D. c/would not deal with when it came time to smog it for registration. We played chicken once for two years, then I had it fixed and it was greatly enjoyed again for a while, and then it sat, un-smogged, again for nearly two years. He didn't want to fix it up enough to sell it and he didn't want to fix it up to keep it. We donated it. And while D. no doubt felt some sadness at seeing it go, it was only his insisting that it had to go that prompted the donation. The week before it left, he told me he felt absolutely nothing about it going away. The day before it left, he admitted that he was a little sorry to see it go. But he agreed with his coworker, who had said, "In two years, you're not going to say, gosh, I sure wish I still had that car sitting under a tarp in my driveway." 

Shelter-in-Place Day 51

And now for something completely different. Except, not really. But this post is all about the bees. 

I inspected the Sonoma Mountain hive today, and didn't look at more of the brood nest than this one frame, which told me what I needed to know. Great pattern of worker and drone, sealed and unsealed, a few eggs, nectar around the edges. The big bees are drones - no queen on this frame that I could see. This hive is a little drone heavy right now, but the quantity and tightness of worker brood reassured me. The holes in the pattern might represent cells for bees to go in for heating the brood but also could reflect hygienic behavior (pulling out any larvae with problems). The population was not exactly happy about me going in, but I bet they appreciate the extra frames I gave them for brood and for storing more honey and the new super (box) on top. The hot day helped this process. I'll check the new swarm this weekend to see whether I have a laying queen yet. 

Shelter-in-Place Day 50

Once you say "day 50," it feels like a real chunk of time - a percentage of the year that is significant. And there will be at least another twenty days to follow. I suspect I may not be the only person waiting to see if there are spikes in covid19 cases as a result of both the loosening of restrictions and the protests in locations where restrictions have not been lifted as much or as quickly as some people want. N. has a ticket to fly to New Jersey in the second half of the month, but is wary. S. was invited to spend time with a friend in Oregon, with a long drive each way probably driven by that friend, and I don't know whether that's wise. The parental units for both parties need to decide on the matter. But again, I'm eyeing the news for spikes and developments.

In the meantime, I'm staying in touch with friends whom I might otherwise see on a regular basis, attending zoom work and poetry meetings, working on the house and garden and tending the pets. Today I processed a dozen or more frames of nectar and honey; the nectar and uncapped honey will be frozen for use as sweeteners in baking and preserves, etc., as otherwise it will ferment and I'm not up for making mead at the moment. 

Honey from extractor into a filter & bucket 4/22/20 extraction. 

The honey will be jarred and given to friends and family. My next task will be rendering all the wax, because almost all of these frames are old and I won't want to reuse them in either hive. So that will mean candles as well. I feel like a pioneer, but really these are just the things that most beekeepers do on a regular basis.  

Shelter-in-Place Day 49

I wrapped up a few little dangling tasks today, which are like dangling participles but require more paint and glue than from and to.  But again, it was a day that was full of activities and without real rest, and yet, I feel as though I have little to show for it. I suppose I would have even less had I truly done nothing, however....

There is much talk this week about the Japanese Giant Hornet having made it to the US (Washington state), where it can decimate (decapitate) whole colonies of bees. Its sting, too, is apparently horrific. I hope they're able to track and contain it before it heads south. At least it's not an "invisible enemy" like SARS Cov2. But yikes!

 

Shelter-in-Place Day 48

I have left posting this until too late in the day. After watching/listening to a four hour Library Commission meeting (and alternately, a poetry reading for the first couple of hours of that), frankly, my brain is fried. 

So I'll just note the current coronavirus statistics: 3,584,118 confirmed, 251,562 deaths. But of course, these are just the figures we know and that are noted on the Johns Hopkins site. Some people say they're very low estimates, other people (perhaps including those protesting the shelter-in-place extensions) say they're grossly exaggerated. 

And I'll add that in addition to making insurance phone calls and doing eBay tasks and chores today, I've also undone about twenty rows of knitted scarf because I made the mistake of trying a new stitch and couldn't fix what I broke. Also, the bees are no longer being robbed in the new hive, but one of them stung me on my eyelid without warning (normally a bee yells at you quite a bit and gives you a lot of heads up before she stings, unless you've stepped on her). I'd been sitting a chair watching the hive for a long time, but I'd started hoping I would see the queen emerge (to mate). I swear bees are mind-readers and heard me focusing on their queen and took umbrage. Oh, well. I put a little honey on it and a little ice and you can't even see it, and I can hardly feel it. Occupational hazard. 

Shelter-in-Place Day 47

I installed the new swarm colony early this morning and then spent a couple of hours sitting next to the hive watching it. The truth is, I could watch beehives most of the day and not get bored.

This probably harkens back to my ant-keeping days, and it makes me wonder how much of my personality is comprised of this observer trait.  And whether that's helpful for a writer, or a sign of laziness and passivity, or just the neurosis that results from a childhood in which it is necessary to assess one's environment for potential flare ups of mental illness or anger.  Or a little of each.

Or hey, maybe it just goes along with my tendency to overthink everything. See above.

And at any rate, I have always loved critters, as evidenced by many a pose with pets and at petting zoos from the days when my hair was blonde and my skirts were short.

Shelter-in-Place Day 46

Well, that didn't take long.

Yesterday, I said goodbye to a bee colony I'd had for more than two years. It was just too dwindled to protect itself against robbing. But then today, I got the call that someone had a swarm for me. Yippee! I arrived after it had been captured by our local swarm catcher extraordinaire, whose wife said this makes thirty-three swarms he's handled this season.

I picked up the box about half an hour ago, and everyone was snug and quiet. I almost doubted that they were in the nuc at all, but I put my ear to it and could hear a deep hum, and I could feel the heat from them on the box. It was a feral colony living in a tree about five feet from where it swarmed. I'm especially happy to have a local, acclimated group. I'll transfer them to my hive box tomorrow very early. They'll be able to keep the robbers at bay, so that's good.

In other suburban farming-type news, we finally confirmed where the wood rats were getting in to the shop (and attic!) and we were able to stucco the large hole closed. But not before I found a sick specimen in a patch of insulation I was removing from the shop ceiling for that very reason. I hate hate hate killing anything. I even feel twinges of guilt about ripping up weed after weed after weed. But this critter was on its way out anyway from a poison we'd used - after much research into whether it would affect secondary predators and whether it was a painful death - no to both, as far as we could determine, or we never would have used it. D. dispatched this one, although he too doesn't like having to kill anything.

It rained this evening, which was a surprise, but I think tomorrow will be dry. The 8pm howls and fireworks are getting louder and crazier. There were two or three huge BOOMs tonight. I'm telling you. It's very Star Trek red hour to me.

Nearly a quarter million deaths but over a million recoveries. I thought writing that would be a positive thing, but actually, I don't like those odds.

Shelter-in-Place Day 45 - May Day

We have survived April.

Today, Sonoma County extended the shelter-in-place order, with some modifications. I didn't see an end date; it will be in effect until it's no longer in effect.  3,344,274 confirmed covid19 cases worldwide. 2 deaths in Sonoma County. Not likely that I'll be back at work Monday. Speaking of which, I spent nearly three hours listening to most of a Library Commission budget meeting, and at this point in the evening, I don't have it in me to even start to describe what that was like. Long and inconclusive might sum it up best.

This morning, I braved Costco. This afternoon, I worked with my beekeeper mentor to assess a hive that as of 8:30am was being robbed. In fact, I spent the first hour of my morning spraying down the hive, knowing that it was probably too late for that tiny population.  Later, I did an hour-long workout.

The chronology of my day is distorted in this post. Here's the real run-down:
Fend off robbing bees (and getting soaked in the process)
Costco run
Walk Dog
Budget Meeting on zoom
Beekeeping with mentor (tearing down most of a hive)
Work-out
Dinner
Welsh soap-opera watching
Episodes of The Office
Reading & knitting when possible

More work on beehive equipment tomorrow, and likely extraction of nectar (do I dare make mead?), just as I had cleaned out the extractor.

Shelter-in-Place Day 44

I gave blood today. Literally. But before that, I was already feeling rather anemic as I listened to my talented poet friends read their hit-it-out-of-the-park poems. Especially when I then read my feeble attempt. I realize this sounds very woe-is-me, but it's just that I could see a real difference between where they were with their work and where I was today. I'm not smart enough to do this, I thought.

But I also thought that I have a choice: I could take that feeling of inadequacy and the probably-disproportionate low self-image, throw my hands in the air, have a little pity party with little pity party piñatas and pity party cupcakes and punch, or regard the experience as something that can be a teacher. (Actually, the pity party cupcakes might have helped with any low-blood-sugar contributing to the feelings...)

After the poetry zoom session, I walked for an hour to D's work to pick up the car so I could get S. from work and then go to the blood donation, and for the whole walk (actually, much of it was a jog, because I was late), I thought about how I could improve that inferior poem. And I thought about other poems I want to write. And how they could be better. So I guess for better or worse, I'm not ready to throw in the virtual towel yet.

Shelter-in-Place Day 43

I spent far too long today knitting and listening to Commonplace. Not the worst use of my time, and I certainly did other (more important) things as well, including a workout and emailing the Library Commission to express the desire I share with so many of my coworkers to find alternative ways to promote the library and support our communities. I think most of us would be willing to work from home to answer technical and reference questions, perform library advisory, translate a backlog of things into Spanish. But so far, working from home has not been allowed except to a very few people.

As reported in publiclibrariesonline.org, apparently, San Francisco public library employees are busy right now in spite of branch closures:

As employees of the City and County of San Francisco, many library workers are being activated on a regular basis as Disaster Service Workers (DSWs) to perform a variety of functions – food pantry workers, contact tracing, cataloging of government documents, bilingual community outreach, among other assignments.

I think at least one of my colleagues has proposed that we volunteer to help with services such as these, but at the moment the Library administration and Union are negotiating how to meet an expected budget shortage, whether/how payroll might be affected, when/how we might return. And then the Commission will weigh in and have the final say about most decisions. Having sat in on a Union zoom meeting last night with about 70 other people, I can say it's complicated. 

Interesting to note that the same article mentions Seattle library is considering opening only their restrooms as a start to help communities. A very valuable service, but I can only imagine how much sanitizing would be involved to protect staff and patrons right now.

Shelter-in-Place Day 42

Today was the first day I can really say I felt emotionally vulnerable since this "SIP" started. I think I was triggered by listening to the news for a few minutes and then going to two different grocery stores only to realize that in both cases, it was before 9am on a Tuesday, and therefore designated "senior" shopping time. And when I went back out to the stores, I saw a couple of cases of very loose interpretations of "social distancing" by people who frankly did not look well. 

My heightened emotions and briefly shaky mental state gave me only the smallest sense of how difficult this pandemic must be if one is concurrently dealing with mental illness.

Of course, thinking about other people who are suffering is only sometimes a good way to snap out of your own anxiety and refocus on compassion. Other times, it can be counterproductive. What helped today was the knowledge that what I was feeling would soon pass. As it did.

Shelter-in-Place Day 41

I had thought to write about the bee hive inspections and "manipulation" I did a few days ago in this blog post, but it will have to wait for another day. At least we have good weather right now, so that any queens who are needing to find a DCA (drone congregation area, aka speed dating hookup spot) will be able to go out, mate with seven or more males - who then die - and find her way back to the hive to start laying. Provided she can find her way back and does not get eaten by a bird, lost, fly into an oncoming car...it's a dicey world out there.

Speaking of which, yesterday I found a dragonfly who had lost most of one of her four wings and was all but dead. I was so saddened. I wanted to help. I couldn't. Both I and my older daughter wanted to be "bug doctors" when we were children. Maybe that feeling doesn't go away. I moved the dragonfly first from our pond, where it was floating, to the cement, then out of the sun. It was strange and beautiful, even in its broken state. Which reminded me of the world. I had the same helpless, it's-too-far-gone feeling with this alien-eyed insect that I sometimes do with the planet. 

It reminded me of the poet Adam Zagajewski's beautiful poem, here translated by Clare Cavanagh:

Try to Praise the Mutilated World

Try to praise the mutilated world.
Remember June's long days,
and wild strawberries, drops of rosé wine.
The nettles that methodically overgrow
the abandoned homesteads of exiles.
You must praise the mutilated world.
You watched the stylish yachts and ships;
one of them had a long trip ahead of it,
while salty oblivion awaited others.
You've seen the refugees going nowhere,
you've heard the executioners sing joyfully.
You should praise the mutilated world.
Remember the moments when we were together
in a white room and the curtain fluttered.
Return in thought to the concert where music flared.
You gathered acorns in the park in autumn
and leaves eddied over the earth's scars.
Praise the mutilated world
and the gray feather a thrush lost,
and the gentle light that strays and vanishes
and returns.

Shelter-in-Place Day 40

It was a day for lightening up: I took pictures of, then threw away,  guitar song sheets from 1973 (lots of things like Hang Down Your Head, Tom Dooley, Tingalayo and Get Together (by the Youngbloods). I also did the same with ribbons that I won swimming when I was 10-12 years old (Go, Marinwood Waterdevils!). Lots of 4th, 5th and 6th place colors, some 2nd, and one 1st.  I was not at all fast, and I hated the competitions, but I actually enjoyed practices in the early morning, with the steam rising from the pool to mingle with the fog.

I also sorted through papers today (so many papers!), weeded, weeded more, "went to" a poetry book launch on zoom, laughed for about an hour straight with the kids when N. stopped by and S. learned the joys of playing the mouth harp, and encouraged D. while he started to clean and fixed a couple of half-done light switches.

As I said, a day for lightening up. In many ways.

Where have all the flowers gone? Must be somewhere behind the weeds....

Shelter-in-Place Day 39

These days, the weekends are distinct only because neither D. nor S. work Saturdays or Sundays, and so they are here all day.

I have always had a terrible problem with being cranky at people who are relaxing while I am "working," but there is no way I can justify that crankiness now. These two are actually physically going to work during the week, while I am at home trying, but failing, to get Everything™done. They deserve to play D&D, nap, hang out, mod games, do nothing if they want.

Ironically, I got more done today than usual, so far. Submitted poetry before 6pm, weeded, cleaned the honey extractor equipment, cleaned the guest bathroom (yikes!), worked on a poem, listened to Commonplace while knitting (that was my break), and moved some empty boxes out of our bedroom. The idea has been to transfer an assortment of things, once I've gone through them and know what I'm keeping, into these boxes. But that's an idea that's been stalled out for so long, it's embarrassing.

Another important breakthrough happened, however, and I look forward to sharing it once it's a fait accompli. 

In the news lately, there has been a spike in calls to poison control centers because people are apparently following someone's suggestion aboutgetting light in the body or injecting disinfectants:

THE PRESIDENT:...So, supposing we hit the body with a tremendous — whether it’s ultraviolet or just very powerful light — and I think you said that that hasn’t been checked, but you’re going to test it. And then I said, supposing you brought the light inside the body, which you can do either through the skin or in some other way, and I think you said you’re going to test that too. It sounds interesting.

ACTING UNDER SECRETARY BRYAN: We’ll get to the right folks who could.

THE PRESIDENT: Right. And then I see the disinfectant, where it knocks it out in a minute. One minute. And is there a way we can do something like that, by injection inside or almost a cleaning. Because you see it gets in the lungs and it does a tremendous number on the lungs. So it would be interesting to check that. So, that, you’re going to have to use medical doctors with. But it sounds — it sounds interesting to me.
So we’ll see. But the whole concept of the light, the way it kills it in one minute, that’s — that’s pretty powerful.

Words fail me. 

Shelter-in-Place Day 38

I have a very short memory when it comes to some things. If I wanted to lie, I could say this comes from living in the present moment. (Ha! Not so....) I think it's more likely a defense mechanism learned early on and tied to compartmentalizing. This is just to say that I can hardly remember, at all, what day-to-day life was like before the pandemic.

I mean, if I thought about it, I'd get there. But the past has a very unreal quality to me. Early senility or associated disease? Let's hope not.

On a more humorous note, however, last night I dreamt that I had died (that's not the funny part), and the afterlife, I realized, was basically like a stage set of New Orleans a few days after Mardi Gras. I have never been to New Orleans, but this place had streets lined with creole townhouses, shuttered bars, jazz joints, and little cafes with bistro tables on the sidewalk. There was post-party detritus everywhere, and people were walking around looking slightly confused and regretful. The good news was that the deal was you had all the time you needed to spend at this place and figure out what you hadn't figured out while alive. It was like a cross between sheltering in place and Groundhog Day.

photo by Ken Lund, from flickr commons

Maybe I've been spending too much time alone.

Shelter-in-Place Day 37

Jarred up some honey today, wrote, submitted poems, had a zoom session with other poets, made a phone call to a colleague, did laundry and dishes and garden work, and had wine with a couple of friends at a social distance with masks (between sips) in the back yard of one of the women. Washed hands thoroughly afterwards. This is not the exact order of events, but it represents the day. Again, how am I not doing the other things on my to-do list when I have all day? It's a mystery. Although I will admit that the wine I had (on an empty stomach) made me feel as though my whole body had been novacained. So that represented a slow down in productivity this evening.

Shelter-in-Place Day 36

On the coronavirus front, here's the latest news that I think is worth noting:

• cats have tested positive for the virus. 😿
• the city of Santa Rosa expects a $20 million shortfall from decreased sales, hotel tax, and permit revenues. Next year, they expect property tax revenue to decline as well. 
• the county has put up signs regarding travel so that people can't claim ignorance if stopped by authorities.

https://www.pressdemocrat.com/news/10912106-181/sonoma-county-signs-discourage-nonessential

The loss of tax revenue will impact the library considerably, although I missed the budget meeting that discussed possible changes that will result. The Union and Administration are in conversation about payroll changes. I've not been as involved as conscious dictates I should be. So that will likely change now. At the very least, I can show up and be informed. 

Shelter-in-Place Day 35

I really don't understand how I can be home all day, be busy and active all day, and still manage to get so little done. The great plans I have before that first cup of coffee have typically come to naught by the time I go to bed.

But at least I got into my larger hive today to see what had happened to it, and it's not only queenright but there is a tiny brood starting up again and a tiny population to help them. I hope there will be enough workers to feed the brood. The other, smaller hive, has a huge population but frame after frame of drone brood - another type of problem entirely. In the next day or two, when the weather is even hotter, I'll do a little more work with both and may have my first honey of the season to process soon.

I also worked on poetry for hours today - my own and that of others, and did weeding and other around-the-house chores. And hope springs eternal that tomorrow I'll accomplish more.

Sunday, I helped neighbors weed the front yard of another neighbor who had left in an ambulance earlier in the week - essentially a 5150. We are doing what little we can to assist with his situation. It felt good to do something for someone else outside of the family, but it's nothing in the scheme of things. The death count in the city of New York alone is nearly 15,000 as of right now.  And I'm worrying about weeds.

Shelter-in-Place Day 34 and Married-to-D. Year 30

As our 29th wedding anniversary, today marks the beginning of our 30th year married. We celebrated by telling each other we loved each other. Which made today no different from every other day.

No dinner out, of course, although I made pork tenderloin with a glaze and mashed potatoes for him, and a quesadilla for myself before I joined a zoom poetry critique group meeting. No cards or presents, either, but we're not big on those anyway. We may try for sushi take-out later in the week, and next year, we hope to have a better celebration. But what will the world look like then, I wonder?

Today the price of oil went negative for the first time ever. The number of confirmed covid19 cases is nearly 2.5 million. Protests are popping up here and there because people (Americans) want the stay-at-home orders lifted. Protestors want to go back to work, restart the economy. They want their "freedom" back but do not seem to believe or care that it's not just their own health they put at risk with their actions. Just thinking about it makes me cranky.

I feel as though the protestors must not know someone who has been laid low or killed by this virus. According to the estimates, that won't be true for much longer.

Shelter-in-Place Day 33

I realize now that even though initially it was called a "shelter-in-place" order, "stay-at-home" is more commonly the phrase used. But at 33 days in, I don't think I'll change my post titles.

We interrupt our usual rambling to present instead a series of images. Yesterday I ran around to all the flowering plants in the front and back yard to take pictures. This is the result, neither cropped nor filtered:

 

 

 

  

  

  

Shelter-in-Place Day 32

To whom am I writing these posts, if no one is reading them? Perhaps to my future self, and that's all. Or to my children, should they stumble across this blog, which I occasionally think needs to be downloaded, post by post, and backed up. You know, for when the internet fails us.

These days, we are probably all more aware than usual that nothing is a "given."

Did people on the fringes of the Great Depression realize what was happening when it was happening, realize the impact? Or was it only the investors who took their own lives, or the farmers ruined by the coincidental Dust Bowl or people in the heart of who it understood the immensity of it?

I do not have young children. Nor do my young adult children yet have children. We still have three incomes in this house. I think this puts me in a special bubble that prevents true panic or existential dread from seeping in. Really, it's those factors (plus our current health, and the good weather) that enable me to keep my equanimity. As much as I'd like to give credit to Tara Brach's wonderful Radical Acceptance audiobook and Oprah & Deepak's 21 day meditation practice and my actually getting dressed, exercising, and writing every day.

I only start to panic when I think how fortunate I am, and whether that means my turn is coming and a horrible downfall is inevitable. Except, why not enjoy the calm before the storm, and then recognize the storm as part of the process too? That is Brach talking, I'm sure. Along with the three ounces of Two-Buck Chuck I've had so far tonight.

Shelter-in-Place Day 31

Good news first: my nephew's surgery went well and he is in recovery. They did not need to remove any organs except his appendix, fortunately. The doctor was surprised that there wasn't more infection. I am going to (not coincidentally) take this opportunity to thank those friends who did everything from pray to "remote healing" for him. Not only could that not have hurt, I personally think it helped. (Sorry, my atheist or sceptic friends. But there it is.)

I braved Costco just as it opened this morning; it wasn't too bad, really - just a little surreal, as it was last time, with everyone wearing their masks out front. The new normal.

I also worked out, planted yet more seedlings in the yard, and submitted poems before dark this time.  There are now seven places in our front and back yard where I have planted broccoli seedlings. As a sort of experiment to see what works. 

Also, I have been actually making dinner for my family. Meat and rice, usually. And meanwhile, I fix myself whatever vegetarian thing. And sometimes, S. makes her keto meal. So it's not as though we all sit down at the table together to a five-course meal and pheasant under glass. But meat is, sometimes, back on the menu these days for D. Steak (defrosted, having lived in our freezer for a period of time I shall not disclose) and fresh Costco ribs, tonight. 

 

Shelter-in-Place Day 30

Today I am distracted by concern about my nephew, who is facing an appendectomy with complications due to infections. I want to just stop everything and pray and send good thoughts his way and envision everything going well. But I don't seem capable of doing so for long, so I seem to just pop in and out of that mode while I do everything else today. It's like a tape playing at low volume in the background. May he be well...may his body respond to the antibiotics...may his condition improve...may the surgery go smoothly....

And again, I realize that this is just a taste of what millions of people all over the world are going through, have been going through, with loved ones who have been more directly affected by SARS-CoV-2. I feel huge respect and gratitude for the people who are working the front lines - all those medical workers, first responders, grocery store clerks, and other essential workers. May they be well...Yes. The tape is looping.

Shelter-in-Place Day 29

I was in the driveway today speaking to a friend on the phone - because that's the only place that has reliable cell reception at our house - and she wondered out loud how many days we'd been at this, and I was able to give her an accurate answer because of this blog. We both thought that it felt more like six weeks than four.

On a different note, I think it's worth recording that so far, friends or family members have told me that they believe one or more of the following:

• that the virus was released from a biological weapons lab by accident
• that the virus was released from a biological weapons lab on purpose
• that organized crime was behind it & their intent is to make more room on earth (think Ebenezer Scrooge's "decrease the surplus population) 
• that the media is making this into a much bigger deal than it is
• that more people died from the flu in 2018 & 2019 than covid19 will kill
• that the hospitals are blaming covid19 for all deaths to get more funding
• that the damage to the economy is the real danger here
• that fear of death from covid19 ups one's chances of dying from the it
• that this is a way for the uber-wealthy to control California real estate 

Those are the ones that come to mind as most striking. These postulations have told me more about the belief systems of the people providing them than they have about the pandemic. Perhaps some facts will come to light at a later time which will change what we think is happening right now. My feeling is that whatever did or did not cause this, for whatever innocent or nefarious purpose, it's here. I do not believe that it is fictional, or that it is not serious, or that it is the least of our worries. I do believe that the world, and how most of us operate in it, will never be the same. 

Shelter-in-Place Day 28

Honestly, if I didn't have the previous post titles as a reference, I would not be able to keep track of how long this stay-at-home order has lasted. The days do blur a bit, although events like zoom sessions with poets help tack dates into place.

Today felt like a real break from (non) routine because I took the car to the dealership for a recall issue and tune-up, and spent nearly three hours killing time not at home. I waited - first alone at an outside table at a nearby sandwich shop, where I finished reading the excellent Weather by Jenny Offill, and then in a corner near the empty salesroom at the dealership, where they had a cluster of chairs and no one in them but me. I listened to the Commonplace podcast with Gabrielle Calvocoressi and knitted, thankful that my earbuds mostly drowned out the sales pitches being made over the phone in a cubicle ten feet away, which were often followed by self-congratulatory re-plays of the previous transactions between salesmen. Before that, I had taken S. to work before dawn, worked out to an excellent FB routine a fellow beekeeper leads, and taken D. to work. After that, I washed the dog, weeded, gardened, picked D. up from work, and tended to my writing duties.

The other day, I cleaned out the little storage shed that had held the huge pump system for our 450-gallon living room fish take. Now it houses my beekeeping equipment. I also tore out and re-spackled part of the the outside wall below our shower where the paint was pulling up from moisture. And I have put some of the vegetable seedlings into containers outside. Fingers crossed they continue to grow so we'll have broccoli and snow peas and arugula.

Shelter-in-Place Day 27

I had my first pandemic dream early this morning; it was vivid and more involved (as my dreams usually are), but the part that had to do with the pandemic was this: I was shopping at a mall somewhere in some dream-version of southern Marin, and the mall was packed with people, busily jostling one another - none of whom was wearing a mask. I was shocked. I told a couple of people that in Sonoma County, just the next county north in other words, everyone was wearing masks when out shopping.  I was then mercilessly teased for overreacting and buying into the "hype" and "story." "Covid19 is not even real," they told me. "It's a scam." "It's not!" I insisted. More mocking ensued, including people reaching out to touch me and even blow their breath on me just to get a reaction. Not fun.

Then today, from the county and reiterated by the city:

Order of the Health Officer: Facial Coverings

All persons shall wear facial coverings before they enter any indoor facility besides their residence, any enclosed open space, or while outdoors when the person is unable to maintain a six-foot distance from another person at all times. This Order shall become effective at 12:01 a.m. on Friday, April 17, 2020.

I wonder about my dog walks. I don't usually wear facial covering because I can maintain at least a six-foot distance from other people. But then again, I don't want to stress anyone. I have a friend with serious respiratory issues who was angry about other people not wearing PPE in public, especially because they may be asymptomatic and represent a danger to her health, even if she's very well protected. What strange times. And is this still only the beginning stages of a totally different world? We will certainly never be quite the same. Hokkaido reports a second wave of coronavirus infections. There are warnings that the meat supply in the U.S. is dangerously low. WHO declares the virus 10 times more deadly than "the 2009 flu." And the White House is talking about wanting to re-open the country.

Shetler-in-Place Day 26 Easter

It's flying chocolate bell day, Zombie Jesus day, the day our Lord and Savior rose from the dead. It's the day your grandmother gives you a stuffed rabbit.

Really, though, it's a day when there are millions of people worrying about, and being separated from, other millions of people whom they love. It's sobering. Which is probably why I opened this entry with silliness. I often resort to flippancy in the face of dire circumstances. It's a coping mechanism that I'm sure many people in my life, especially those more seriously-minded, find irritating. This is not to say that I am not capable of being serious.

There certainly was a time when I loved this holiday because it represented hope and the resurrection of Jesus, which I considered symbolic of the resurrection of all of the things that return in the Spring. Now, because I am (as I say) "between religions," I no longer blast Keith Green's "He is Risen!" in the house on Easter.

Instead, this morning, while S. and N. and A. dyed eggs - including 2 raw "surprise" eggs - we sang along to the mix I'd created for our New England trip in 2018, which never did get air time and contains everything from "We are the Pirates Who Don't Do Anything" from Veggie Tales to Lorde and Fall Out Boy to songs from Wicked.  Then we had Welsh cakes into which I had forgotten to add sugar. They were still eaten, but it really wasn't the same. Obviously, singing while baking has its downfalls.

But again. What a first-world-non-covid19 problem. It. Doesn't. Matter.

What does matter is that we're not out of the woods yet. I send out love to the people suffering right now, which includes my half-sister, recovering from open heart surgery, and my nephew, suffering appendicitis. I do tonglen. I try to keep myself and my family healthy - and, actually, omitting the sugar from the Welsh cakes probably helped in that regard. I exercise. I'm growing vegetables and am grateful for every egg the hens give us, and take solace from my hives, and actually enjoy hearing from friends and family. Today was the first day I realized that I do, indeed, miss seeing the people I used to see on a regular basis. I'm still relishing and taking advantage of time at home. But it will be good, at some point, to spend time in person (not just zoom) with others outside of my family again.

Shelter-in-Place Day 25

It is very late. Four of us have just finished a two hour game of Cards Against Humanity. There was much laughter, as one might expect.

It's not such a bad thing if your kids and their significant others are willing to let you play such a silly, irreverent, and potentially offensive game with them. It might have helped that there was a little alcohol and sugar involved. Maybe it's an Easter morning warm up. Although they drank more than I did, and may be more blurry in the morning than I'll be. Just as well, because I'll be the one making breakfast and, probably, hiding the small bit of "essential" candy I bought at Safeway.

D. and I are about to treat ourselves to an almost-midnight showing of MST3000. We'll see how long into it I last, but I just feel loathe to put the day to bed.

Tomorrow, I can recap what else I did today. For now, a little more hilarity before midnight....

Shelter-in-Place Day 24

It was an unusual day, today - remarkably without form. I slept in extremely late. In fact, I cannot remember having slept that late - after noon! any time in the last several years. And because it's  Good Friday. I fasted until sundown. But in spite of thinking this would be some kind of focus for me, I spent far less time meditating or praying or thinking good thoughts for the world than I thought I would. And the empty stomach may have contributed to a sense of spaciness I felt.

However, I did little things: walked the dog, watered plants, did laundry. I also figured out how to play old super 8 and camcorder tapes and VHS tapes so S. and I could spend a few hours with N. and A. watching old home movies, primarily of the kids as kids. It was not what I'd planned to do with the day, exactly, but it was worth it.

I also ventured to Safeway for the first time in weeks to get Easter candy and bacon - essentials, right? It was sobering to see how compulsively the cashier scoured her workstation between each customer and how she kept everyone in line, separated fully and behind the plastic barrier. I think she was especially neurotic about it all, but it could just be that I haven't been out since the face mask recommendations really went into effect. I wore the N95 I have from the fires and used wipes and washed my hands the second I got home. Still, I'm glad I won't need to do shopping again until a week from now (when I can afford another Costco trip, and when we'll be out of almost all our essentials).

The weather is changing and I expect to get more gardening done tomorrow - especially if I don't sleep half the day away!

Shelter-in-Place Day 23

I may have spoiled my ability to update this blog sans stress.

I can usually ease any pressure I might feel by remembering that these little entries are virtually reader-less. But today I told my poetry friends that I have been writing, and now I must at least assume that they may, indeed, glance at it if I actually send them the link.

So in case my future self has done so, I'd like to say "hello" to those friends who have visited.

Hello.

And I also have to say that one of my favorite verb tenses is the future perfect. I will have written this. You may have read it. We would have [conditional] both read it by the time you reach here.

Here.

There's an idea, at any rate. How many of us live focusing only on the future perfect, rather than the existing within the muddle that is the present progressive? As in "I am trying to live a more perfect present so that I will not have had regrets about the past in the future."

Moira, sleeping (she had slept for an hour or so by the time I took this. She will sleep more tomorrow, until she will have slept most of the week away):

Darcy, sleeping (see above regarding weekly quantity of sleep):

Shelter-in-Place Day 22

Here's what the Johns Hopkins map of America looks like right now:

Over 1,500,000 cases. 314 dead in California.

And yet, the irises are about to bloom, and my vegetable starts are sprouting. The pair of crows to whom I feed walnuts, who had been absent for a day or two, are back. The three people who live here are still working and/or being paid. N. and A., while not working, are at least dividing time between here and Sebastopol, and are not flying back to New Jersey, as they had previously planned. It's a new hot spot, and I'm grateful that they're here, and safe.

Broadway is closed until June.
Bernie Sanders has dropped out of the Presidential race.

I continue to send poems out to journals at a rate of one per day this month. It's a little like playing the lottery or planning a trip, where the anticipation of the results is at least half the fun.

Shelter-in-Place Day 21

We're coming up on a month of social distancing.

It's so strange how even days that feel long are zipping by and turning into weeks. I am also surprisingly not getting as much "accomplished" as I thought I would in terms of going through old papers, photos, ephemera, etc.

However, I am researching and submitting to literary journals every day, and am writing - even something as simple as this counts, I tell myself - daily. I am walking. I am cleaning, tending the garden and keeping up on housework, etc.

After my "I haven't napped yet during this pandemic" statement, I did nap for about an hour today. But I also walked for over an hour and later submitted to not one but two journals.

The weather is better, and looks to improve even more by end of week. Pollen going into both hives. So even though I can see now that the large hive is battling deformed wing virus - but their varroa mite load still seems low, based on the monitor board - they must have brood. This is beekeeper talk that basically translates into background free-floating fretting mixed (as always) with faith that things will work out with the bees as it should. This colony continues to demonstrate a genetic predisposition for hygienic behavior that will serve it well right now. So there's that. 

Shelter-in-Place Day 20

This is what the animals do mid-morning. Also late morning, early afternoon, evening, and whenever it suits them. I don't think I've taken a single nap during this shelter-in-place. But I live vicariously.

And Mr. Dary, mid-yawn. Because napping wore him out, apparently.

Most of today was spent composing poems, and tonight a zoom critique group. In between, a dog walk and in the evening, a short but very intense lightning storm with hail. The chickens like to eat the hail. 

Tomorrow, the National Guard will arrive to help at the Food Bank in Santa Rosa, and the County Health Officer anticipates cases of the coronavirus to reach an apex in June. Tonight, the Library Commission met regarding pay and closure. I'll have to check the recording tomorrow, because the timing conflicted with my poetry group. Whenever we do return to work, things will be very different.

Shelter-in-Place Day 19

Today, I fasted until dinner - something I've never done before but tried as a re-set after two days of almost criminal overeating. I also, once the rain stopped, went on a four-mile walk, gardened, and finally emptied the box I've hauled around for 30+ years that contains ephemera from a 3-month Eurail/Youth Hostel trip which I've been meaning to put in a scrapbook "some day."

I did not complete that project. But I did run across some interesting items, and perhaps by this time tomorrow, I'll be able to provide photographic evidence of what this odd hoarding has accomplished.

I've kept up with my daily poetry writing/blogging/submitting for April. There was a typo and a missing page break I caught after submitting pieces, so it tells me to slow down and double-check. But it feels good to know that I now have a total of 25 poems pending responses from 6 places.

California and Sonoma County now recommend masks for people who are out in public. There are many people, friends included, making their own. I have a couple of older N-95 masks that I will use when I eventually go shopping for food again, unless I use a bandana or the like instead in order to avoid criticism because N-95 masks should go to medical professionals for their PPE. However, the ones I have are old. However, who would know that?

It's amazing how quickly what would have been something out of a dystopian novel becomes "normal."

Sonoma County's caseload is now at 111.

D. told me people are finding creative ways to cope with being home-bound. Lots of music, lots of baking. And apparently, one man counted how many smiley faces he could draw with a standard ballpoint pen before it ran out of ink (29,249).

Is putting 1989 museum tickets and travel brochures in a scrapbook just as worthless a use of time?

Shelter-in-Place Day 18

It rained today, and I spent most of the day at the computer, reading poetry, listening to poetry podcasts, watching poets interview one another, knitting, and feeding the fire in our wood burning stove.

I also spent some time trying to watch the presidential corona virus briefing. But it kept stalling out, so I only heard snippets. Enough to know that the next two weeks will be rough, especially for some hot spots. And that the POTUS is capable of contradicting himself, even about vitally important matters, within the space of a single sentence. And that the U.S. has been accused of diverting shipments of medical supplies. 

As I wrote this, I wonder whether a day will come when the world will be in such dire straits that international cooperation in coordinating relief efforts will override the base human impulse for preservation of self and tribe. In other words, what would it take for us to work together as a social animal that is able to put the species and its survival as a whole ahead of individual needs? I wonder what E.O. Wilson has to say about SARS-CoV-2. 

As of right now, the Johns Hopkins worldwide numbers are 1.2 million confirmed cases, 64,753 deaths and 246,886 recovered.  For California, the numbers are 13,723 confirmed cases and 317 deaths. That figure comes from the efforts of the New York Times to track cases at a state and county-wide level. When you see that fewer than 21 out of 100,000 people in Sonoma County are affected, and .2 out of 100,000 people in Sonoma County have died from this disease, it would be tempting to think of it as "just another flu" about which officials are making a huge fuss. But in New York, the deaths at this point number 22 out of every 100,000 people, and they're having to create more makeshift morgues. That's the way this would go everywhere - or worse - if we weren't sheltering in place.

I'm hoping to avoid any trips to the stores or anywhere, apart from driving S. to work and picking her up, for the next couple of weeks. 

Shelter-in-Place Day 17

I spent a good part of today trying to clean up the dumping ground that was the area just outside our back window, along the house in the back yard. We'd gone through the rice straw bale we use as bedding for the chickens, as well as the pressed wood logs we use for the fireplace when we don't have enough of the hard oak cut. So a trip to Rivertown for both things was my essential outing for the day (as well as a walk with the dog).

I also managed to check both bee hives, briefly, and replace a splitting super for the Mountain colony, which appears to be doing beautifully. The Shakespeare hive is still huge and still busy, but I'm concerned by the large number of bees they're pulling out each morning, dead, and by the even larger number of bees I see walking on the ground near the hive. I can't see that they have deformed wings or mites, so maybe pesticide, or something else? Some do seem to fly after walking around quite a bit. The colony has always had a strong hygienic habits, so I suppose it could be something else going on with the newest bees. Just not sure.

After the hive inspections, determined to find a better way to store the rice straw bale than up against the house for mice to tunnel under, I thought of setting it up on top of something. A simple enough idea, but to make it work and clean up all the unnecessary clutter took hours, for some reason. I moved make-shift nesting boxes created with old dresser drawers, but now abandoned by the hens. I moved buckets of sand and BBQ briquettes and wood that still needs to be split and dilapidated seed starting trays, and it only now occurs to me as I write this that only the nesting boxes were my idea. The rest was, as it were, imposed on me by the erstwhile projects of other family members. If that sounded bitter, it was only a tiny bit so. There are moments, especially during this shelter-in-place, when I feel as though I do nothing but clean up after everyone else. Which is ridiculous to admit because meanwhile, people are dying and losing their jobs, and my family members do help me, sometimes, and oh, yeah, again: people are dying.

The number of diagnosed cases world-wide, or at least admitted (because who knows how many really died in China), has exceeded one million. And Dr. Anthony Fauci has had to have increased personal security because of death threats from conspiracy theorists. I think Fauci (head of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases) knows his stuff and has helped save countless lives with his ability to stand firm and tell the truth while the person next to him at the podium vacillates between one ego-driven declaration and another. [Insert deep breath here, to avoid expressing my real - heated - opinion of said person.]

The day ended with D. and I watching an episode of MST3000 together, although I fell asleep before it finished, having had too much red wine and too much sugar during a zoom celebration of a friend's birthday. Is seeing the faces of my girlfriends on a screen instead of around a table in person the new normal? Some think so.

Shelter-in-Place Day 16

I'm copying text that I'd put in my poetry blog here. The post was entitled "Well, That Was Quick":

As if to reward me for focusing on my work, [insert name of divine being, fate, luck, synchronicity, etc.] has provided me with a less-than-24 hour turnaround for acceptance of a poem I sent out last night. I am so very grateful, especially because the journal is beautiful and I'm honored to be part of it. More to come on that later. 

In other, less ego-centric news, there was a zoom Litquake reading tonight that would have been in Grace Cathedral had circumstances allowed it. The event was hosted by Rebecca Foust, and featured I got to see and hear Kazim Ali, Tongo Eisen-Martin, and Jane Hirshfield. I felt like I'd gone on a three-stage journey by the time the reading had finished, and that the scenery and local food and language differed, but they all carried me along my way, and I was grateful to have traveled. 

Otherwise, today was spent running errands and working on bee equipment and trying to find the next place to submit poems. It's a sign of the times that when I went to Beekind for lemon grass oil and Bee Quick, they were allowing only one customer in the store at a time, masked, and that they had hand-sanitizer to use before you entered, and you weren't to touch anything but what you bought. At Costco, there was a forty minute wait to get into the store. But the shelves were well-stocked in terms of what I needed, with the exception of eggs, toilet paper and flour. I bought equipment from John at Buzz Off Honey as well. There, the shopping experience was as it normally is.

I am finding that writing poems every day, submitting poems every day, doing Whole Life Challenge and managing two blogs is keeping me busy - especially if I put off much of it until the end of the day. Tomorrow, if the weather is good, I'll add a hive inspection to that list.

Shelter-in-Place Day 15

It is April, and therefore National Poetry Month. Here's a random photo of late February daffodils to liven up this post.

Today also marks the 30 year anniversary of my husband asking me to marry him. Yes, April Fool's Day. If this has been a long-running prank, I admire his ability to stretch out a joke.

Today a neighbor and I walked to a friend's house to sit socially distant from one another in her garden and catch up. This is after I had a zoom session with poetry friends. So many interpersonal interactions in one day!

Also, I gardened (weeded) and read and wrote. I'm focusing more on poetry this month: trying to write a poem a day and submit to a publication every day. We shall see how that plays out...