March 19, 2020

Ever since my brilliant nephew Trevor sent an email on January 25th warning family and friends about the dangers of the novel coronavirus, I have been worried and anxious. I took Trevor’s warning to heart and shopped at Costco on January 31st, for shelf staples and freezer foods, and made sure that I had enough prescription meds to last a month. 

I kept up with the news of the virus sweeping through China. Gradually the red dots on the Hopkins global map of the outbreak grew larger in China and cases started emerging in other parts of the world, including Italy and Iran.

In the United States, the virus reached the states of Washington and California first. Trevor had predicted that the virus would reach the East Coast in mid-February to early March. It was as though a sword of Damocles was hanging over our heads, and we were waiting for it to fall. Very few friends took my warnings seriously. One told me that we had to stay sane. 

I made no attempts to cut down my busy schedule in February and my  calendar was very full, with a long list of activities—a ballet at the Kennedy Center, Cherish the Ladies concert, a play, potlucks, and open mics for me to read my poetry and tell stories.

On March 1st, I made a short trip to North Carolina with a friend, where I told stories to six classes in an elementary school. On the way home the first case of Covid-19 in North Carolina was announced. The next day March 5th I took the Metro into DC with a friend to see the special Jane Goodall exhibit at the National Geographic. The first confirmed case in nearby Maryland was announced that day. 

Two days later on March 7th the first case in Virginia was announced; the patient had returned from a cruise on the Nile.

 Exponential growth was predicted, and with not enough testing kits in the United States, we did not have a count of the true numbers. But like listening to the sounds of popcorn kernels popping in the microwave bag first slowly and then faster and faster, the numbers in my area were starting to explode.

Our annual church auction—always great fun and jam-packed with people— was held on March 7th, but I didn’t go. I didn’t go to church the next morning either, but I did go to a memorial service for a friend that afternoon and tried to sit well away from others. Some friends sat down next to me, and one reached over and patted my hand. 

On Monday I asked my lit group chair to cancel the meeting that I was supposed to lead the following week. 

Then in a week that saw a full moon and Friday the 13th came the wave of cancellations of events including my AAUW branch meeting and the Friday evening worship service I was leading at my church.

On Saturday March 14th the first person died from Covid-19 in Virginia.

Social distancing measures now are increasing to try to slow down the spread of the virus—first limiting events to 250, then 150, 100. Now ten. More and more Americans realize the need to flatten the peak of the Covid-19 outbreak so that our health system is not overwhelmed, but it may be too late. One danger is that the virus can be spread by the asymptomatic. The other problem is the continued lack of testing kits.

The mortality rate is highest for the elderly or those with compromised immune systems so we are being told to stay at home. I tick both those boxes. I ran three short errands on Tuesday, March 17, and received a scolding from both my two adult children who have begged me to stay home.

One estimate from UK experts is 2.2 million deaths in the United States if we do not take drastic measures.  

I am here on my hilltop alone, with spring unfolding.

June 25, 2019

Yesterday I heard an alarm buzzing. I tracked it down to the upright freezer in the utility room. The temperature was high, and the food was defrosting. I moved what food I could to the refrigerator freezer. Too late in the day to call the appliance repair man. He will be here tomorrow.

Then I went outside to do some chores and discovered that the waterfall pump in the fish pond was silent. After working merrily for days it was no longer running. I tested the GFCI and it was working, so either the pump is clogged very badly or it has reached the end of its life.

Today on driving down the driveway I noted that a section of wire fence has been pulled loose from the board fence, and an upright board split, damage done by one of the delivery trucks yesterday.

One of my friends said today that I must have a black cloud hanging over my head, but over the past nine years since Bill’s death I have learned to take these domestic crises in my stride. They are vexing and take time and money to fix, but usually they are fixable. They really are not bad things, but problems to be solved.

The truly bad things happen to people and break our hearts.

June 21st, 2019

 With the Summer Solstice today, Summer officially has begun. For me now, the start of summer means very little in the way of changes, just longer days, shorter nights, and much hotter weather. It means getting outside very early in the morning to pull weeds from the flower beds, shutting the shades on the sunny side of the house, and remembering my big sun hat to plop on my head when I leave the house on errands.

But when I was the age of my grandchildren, whose elementary school finished last week, the start of summer meant much more.

If my family stayed in town it meant

Swimming and splashing at the crowded local pool

Running to the ice cream truck playing its music, with quarters clutched in our hands to buy popsicles and ice cream bars and Nutty Buddies

Dancing through the  arcs of the backyard sprinkler

Running through the twilight with sparklers twirling in our hands

Catching fireflies in a jar and then letting them go.

But even better, if my family went to our North Woods cabin in the summer it meant

Swimming in the cool lake waters and chasing little sunfish through the shallows

Balancing on the big truck inner tube for a  brief second and then tumbling into the lake

Rowing the boat to the lagoon to see the white water lilies in full bloom

Watching the plastic bobber on the surface of the lake, waiting for a fish to bite

Racing up the hill to see the evening train pass along the embankment

Lying in the hammock and making up songs

Picking blueberries in the woods

Roasting marshmallows at the beach fire

Watching Fourth of July fireworks over the lake

Swimming on the path made by the moon on the lake

Sitting in the screen porch by the shore and telling ghost stories, then racing up the hill to the cabin as though all the ghosts were on our heels.

Summer days were long and summer was infinite and life was full of wonders.