Shelter-in-Place Day 64

The Covid virus dashboard at Johns Hopkins just reached five million confirmed cases worldwide. There are, undoubtedly, many more that have not been confirmed. I am writing this as a way of anchoring myself, however grimly, in the broader present moment. 

While I start my third knitting project since learning the skill, which is to say my third "maybe this time there's enough yarn to make an actual scarf" since the SIP order, and while I power-watch The Office episode after episode, millions of people are fighting, suffering, dying, and continuing to spread a virus that is still not easy to prevent or contain. 

I feel as though this pandemic has brought out both the most trivial and the most noble within us as a species. People are battling against time to find vaccines, better testing, better tracking of the virus at an international level. As individuals, we're learning that it's all right to live more slowly, to buy less, to connect with our own families, plant our gardens, notice the natural world around us. But on the other hand, some people are finding ways to profit from the ennui that many are experiencing. Or they're turning to conspiracy theories or are finding fault with what we did or didn't do. I suppose this is just how the world operates anyway, writ large because we're in a kind of crucible. And I know that I'm not saying anything profound that hasn't been said in a thousand other places. Nor do I need to be, I suppose. 

I am just recording a sliver of my own view from this place, in this moment. 

Shelter-in-Place Day 63

Today would have been my paternal grandmother's 106th birthday. This fact is strongly in my mind because I am deep in genealogy work, and because I just reconnected with her sister Hazel's grand-daughter, a woman who (as I mentioned previously) saved my life when we were both preschoolers.

The story goes like this: I had gone into the pool in her back yard - I might have been two years old - and she'd come inside to tell our mothers, who had been chatting. According to the family legend, she'd whispered, "Becky's in the pool," so very quietly, they'd asked her repeat the sentence a few times before they finally understood what she was saying.  My mother ran outside, saw me floating, and jumped in to the pool and pulled me out. One might think this would have left me afraid of water, but on the contrary, I like to be underwater, and I have a memory - whether imposed by the retelling of the story or otherwise - of being at peace that other world. My mother never once spoke of this dramatic episode without adding, "And I had a brand new pair of tennis shoes which I ruined by jumping into that pool to save you." Usually, the comment was accompanied by a rueful head shake.

Somehow, that story made me think of this photo. My mother and I had a great relationship, and she was a fantastic mother. But I think there were moments when she felt more than a little exasperation at my...shall we say, "lack of focus"?

Shelter-in-Place Day 62

Well, it was bound to happen. Because the library has offered access to genealogy databases outside of the library buildings, I knew I would follow the siren song of research eventually.

So tonight I've been digging through Ancestry to find out whatever-became-of a few second (3rd?) cousins. There's more to the story than this, but it may need to wait until after tomorrow, when I send old family photos to the person with whom I just reconnected. Cryptic, I know. But not because I mean to convey mystery, but rather because it is late and I'm hip-deep in looking up 1960s High School Yearbook photos, marriage and birth and divorce and death records, FB profiles, obituaries. 

This is honestly more dangerous than jigsaw puzzles for me. In a few hours, someone will have to remind me to sleep. 

Shelter-in-Place Day 61

At the library, when you weed books, it's a process of going through the collection to discard those items that are stained, torn, have broken spines or contain dated (and in some cases such as medical books ,not just dated but inaccurate and potentially life-threatening) content, or have not been borrowed by patrons for years. In our branch, most everything circulates at least once every couple of years. For new fiction, multiple copies of the same title will circulate multiple times a month. I miss weeding. Because I miss handling the collection and being surrounded by all those books, and all their potential, whether it is wasted or not.

At home, while sheltering in place, I have been weeding our collection of things. Not everything and not in a completely systematic way, but chunks at a time. Today I finished sorting doll clothes and Barbie™ clothes, and more people clothes, too. Maintained: a few items of Barbie™clothing from the early seventies, most of the American Girl doll items from S.'s "Sammy," and in its own special collection in navy bins, more of D's old t-shirts and baseball caps. The man has easily over a hundred old well-worn tees and hoodies, logo'd with the names of films and departments within the film industry and NASA and the San Francisco School of Mortuary Science and the like. Discarded: a yellowed t-shirt from the 1989 London production of the musical Metropolis and the green t-shirt I bought on my 16th birthday at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival that time my mother and I went when my grandmother couldn't (shingles), and it was a senior citizen trip and we had absolutely no money at all but my mother let me get that shirt. I tested it, and you could still see through it if it was folded in half, that's how worn out it was. Goodbye t-shirt. Hello again, still-abiding memory.  

                                                                                                                     

I'm reading the eBook edition of Educated by Tara Westover and am listening to the audiobook What is the Grass? by Mark Doty. Both very good reads thus far. especially because both of them keep poking at me at a deep level, over different topics and for different reasons. Westover's father reminds me only a little of my own - in particular, in the way in which he could not be trusted to parent. Doty's examination of Whitman makes me want to re-think my own opinion of the man. I had thought him egotistical, blowsy and a blow-hard. I did not think he had anything to say to me. But now I admit that his more mystical and cryptic lines appeal to me, and if nothing else, the certainty he seems to have that his poems will be read, and the way in which he leans toward an inclusive view, can teach me something. It doesn't change what seems to be a rather narrow view he presents of the role of women as anything other than procreating beings. But in so many other ways he was so ahead of his time, I can mostly forgive him for it. 

Shelter-in-Place Day 60

Started the day with a zoom meeting with local beekeepers, and this evening, joined in on a zoom 25th wedding anniversary vow renewal. Truly a sign of the times. In between, I did house and yard work; I will be paying for it tomorrow. But it's a good kind of ache. 

The local paper printed a story about the library reopening for curb-side service. We (by which I mean the administration) is working with the county health officials, but we're not there yet. 

I just looked at the national and international news to see what I might want to tag on to the end of this post to provide a sense of the pulse of the world; but it all seems too sad or grim to repeat. That may be because it's late, I'm tired, and I don't have the energy to spin it or write from a philosophical distance. Thank goodness (Lord willing and the creeks don't rise), tomorrow will offer a fresher perspective. 

Shelter-in-Place Day 59

Calling it a day early, without the zoning out in front of Netflix that has become all too common during this SIP. I spent more time reading today instead, and borrowed the car to run errands (empty mineral water bottles to the recycling center, a feed store stop, chiropractic appointment, etc.). I also did my daily exercise routine, called a friend, and checked the queenless hive. Spotted two emergent queen cells, so we shall see if they are successful. The two crows I feed came closer to me today than they have before. I don't really think I can get them to eat from my hand, but I'm glad they are more relaxed around me now.

Shelter-in-Place Day 58

An uneventful day that ended with a two-hour Union zoom meeting to discuss ongoing negotiations with the library administration over budget considerations and whether/how employee salary might be affected in the next four weeks and next fiscal year. I found it interesting but not surprising that the people with the most strongly (and repeatedly) voiced opinions were less likely to consider perspectives other than their own. And I guess that's all I want to say about that.

Equally sobering, but in a different way entirely, was the episode I then watched of Cyswllt (Mewn COVID), an almost-real-time drama in Welsh about the pandemic, starring very well-respected Welsh actors who have filmed most of the series from their own homes. I am so sucked in by compelling acting and good scripts, and easily influenced by what I watch. So now I feel on edge. It's just as well I gave up on Game of Thrones. 

4,443,793 confirmed covid19 cases worldwide; 302,462 deaths - 85,906 in the US and 27,641 of those in New York. 

Next week, D. goes back to work his usual schedule, and the week after that, S. goes back as well after her vacation, although she's feeling burned out with retail after a year of it, and is trying to think of ways she could make a living doing something she loves (art, writing). First step might be getting her driver's license....

Shelter-in-Place Day 57

Although I don't think I anticipated spending nearly two months sheltering-in-place, I admit that when we left the office that last day, I took with me the photo of my daughters and artwork they had given me, which I'd had posted around my desk. Just in case it's a long time before we return, I thought. 

And while I can now start to envision a day when I will return to work at the library, I know this will always be a time apart. Maybe the first time apart of several. Or many. That's the thing with the unexpected. Once it happens, you can perceive it happening again - you start to expect the unexpected. 

There is probably a comparison between this kind of thinking and PSTD or a the results of a history of childhood abuse. And if it were not so late at night, I might dive deeper into exploring this. But as it is, ten minutes ago, I didn't think I could manage to post anything at all in this blog. I was wondering why I was keeping track of anything in this way. 

But if posting daily has taught me anything, it's that I don't have to disappointment myself if I choose not to. More and more often these days, with the space and time and quiet possible in this situation, I am showing up for myself and doing what is healthiest for me. And the more I do so, the stronger those muscles get. Hallelujah, amen. 

Shelter-in-Place Day 56

I do not know that I have anything worth saying in a blog post today.  I am tempted to not write anything, but one might as well admit that an extended shelter-in-place during a pandemic includes days that have no huge significance, apart from gratitude that the family remains safe and well. So here's the dull (but safe and well) rundown, without even the details that I might have mustered had I more umph and gumption. As though the two things were distinct.

We had more rain, which was nice. 

After I put umbrellas up to cover the hives I looked again at the incoming bees at new one where I had seen them ball the queen on Sunday, and I saw foragers bringing in pollen. Which means brood is coming. I'll know more when it's hotter, but this is a good sign.

I cleaned. I worked out as part of a new yoga/tabata routine I'm doing. I read a few chapters of an Arthurian novel. I wrote a little draft of a poem, and called my computer-less, cell phone-less coworker to catch up.  N. came by to make rose petal jelly and we chatted. I planted potatoes. I did a sugar run to Safeway at 9pm with S. (Thereby negating the workout.) I watched some of season 7 of The Office. 

And finally, I managed to make a mundane blog entry, and I forgave myself for what I did and did not do, and I told myself I would make more of tomorrow than I did of today. 

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.