May 20, 2020

I’m finding it enormously interesting and not just a little reassuring that I am hearing people much younger than me, who are staying-at-home, confess that they lose track of what day it is.

It really is easy, when you’re retired, to let the names of the days go. There’s not much to distinguish one from another. When we worked, there was the weekend, and then the days we had to work to get to it. After I no longer left the house to work, I said that now, I have six Saturdays and a Sunday. But at this point, I just don’t seem to have enough time, period.

We’ve had a lot of rain and cool winds the last couple of weeks, and my legs have had enough of that. This morning, as I write this, the sun is shining and it’s 57 degrees outside. Could this be the arrival of spring-like temperatures at last? I can only hope.

David has begun to build our table gardens. He’s got the three frames almost completely built. Now comes the part where he has to build the bottoms. There’s netting involved—the bottom of each table garden is wood slats, with netting on top. The netting will keep the soil in while letting the water drip down and away. He has some netting that he’s planning to use. It’s what we refer to as ginseng cloth. If you’ve ever passed fields of ginseng you know what I mean—that black screen-like material that the growers suspend above the crop.

We’re still working on deciding about which vegetables we’re going grow. I he’s still planning to grow squash, though he hasn’t decided what kind. Tomatoes are in, I know that. So, too, is Swiss Chard. Green beans are also a given. I believe he was thinking two vegetables for each garden, so that leaves us with two more to decide upon. We’re both really hoping this works out for us. We do miss the convenience of fresh vegetables in the summer and early fall.

Aside from the gastronomic advantage of planting a garden, there’s the sense of accomplishment one can only get from growing things. Humans have grown plants for centuries. I think there’s something deep within us that hearkens back to our earliest days, that can only find expression of when we get our fingers in the soil.

As humans, our connection to the soil of our planet is as much spiritual as it is physical.

The number of people in this county who have tested positive for the virus and are not in hospital remains low—there are currently 3. So far, we’ve lost three souls here, and while the loss of even one is a tragedy, I am grateful that we’ve not lost hundreds or even thousands here in our area of the world. As of yesterday, our country has a death toll of 5,912. Our entire population is 37.5 million. People-wise, we’re a smaller country. California has more people than we do.

Since our numbers remain low here, I’ve decided to head out to the grocery store this week. David has already ventured out with our daughter a couple of times. I wasn’t surprised that he caved first. He’s always liked to go out and about. For me, that hasn’t been a thing that I’ve clung to. The last decade has found me coping with gallbladder disease before I had it removed and then increasing arthritic pain. Neither of those afflictions are conducive to going out anywhere.

I feel okay with the decision to go out to the grocery store, but then again, that could change once I’m out there. This is a personal decision that everyone has to make. Of course, I will be taking all precautions. I’ll be wearing a mask, and gloves, and will keep my distance from others.

I doubt I’ll be going out to a restaurant right away, once they do open. We might call in an order and then pick it up. But for myself, I’m going to take baby steps. I’m also going to keep my eye on whether or not the case count in this area goes up, once things begin to open more. It’s been proven that one person infected and asymptomatic can infect dozens. That puts a degree of uncertainty in every situation, at least for the time being.

Am I afraid that I might get the virus, or get it and unknowingly pass it on? Of course, I am. I have been throughout this pandemic.

The way I see it, I’d be a damn fool not to be.

Love,
Morgan
http://www.morganashbury.com
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury