a pause

That's the best way to describe being sick with Covid right now: everything is on pause. Oh sure, the wheels of daily life grind on, but very slowly, tentatively and more out of necessity than because hey, it's July and the weather is (for once) splendid and shouldn't we seize the day? 

I do not want to seize the day. I'm on the couch, hoodie on (despite the warmth outside), tissue box right next to me. If the second and third day of Covid are said to be the pits -- well, I'd agree with that. Feverish and tired, sniffly and croaky. I'm looking forward to the fourth day. No one said anything horrible about the fourth day.

I did get up with the usual determination to snip off spent lilies. 350 today. It was so buggy outside that I grabbed a netting jacket and sprayed it with Deet. Unfortunately it was Ed's netting jacket so now I have to decontaminate it and, too, it was very frustrating to work in the garden because the sleeves were too long and they'd fall all over the plant I was snipping. A messy messy way to proceed. Too, I could not see past my nose (all that netting!) and so delightful photo opportunities did not present themselves to me. I had to finish the work outside, then take off the jacket and go back out again, to see what's actually beautiful out there. 

I kept thinking that threatening to quit gardening might be a persuasive way to convince Ed that we really need to spray for the bugs. So I tried it.

Ed! -- a shout from me. I'm quitting gardening!

Oh, okay. Too much work, eh?

Well that didn't work.

No, not too much work -- too many bugs. The hollyhock have been slumping for days and I haven't the will to get in there and figure out how to build a support system for them. It's like that: I do the basics, but I don't finesse anything, I don't improve, I don't even weed anymore. Weeds? Who cares. Let them flourish.

Still...

When I finally do look up, it is very beautiful indeed (Ed's garlic plantings in front of the lily bed notwithstanding).

I cant quite get a good photo shoot going because I'm just too tired and impatient to be done with it all, but trust me: it's all lovely.

And as if that wasn't "normal" enough for a July Saturday morning, I then get in the car and drive to the farmers market downtown. This would have been the perfect day for walking the market, but of course, I am with Covid, so I can't join the crowds (others may not care if they're sneezing out Covid germs, but I do!). I drive over to the flower vendor I like so much, get out of the car and shout to her -- here's some money! I'm sick, but I want you to pick a bouquet for me and put it on the street. Anyone will do!

And she does. 

So much for market shopping. I dont even know what they're selling right now -- it's been such a long time since I've actually walked the stalls.

I then drive over to Madison Sourdough where I preordered a box of croissants and such. Same thing. I call them on the phone: I'm outside, I have Covid, I don't want to come in. Can you bring my order to the driveway and just place it there for me? They oblige, holding their breath as they approach me (I'm still several dozen feet away!). 

 

 

 

I am a known pariah. So many people walk with their Covid -- after all, that's how we all get infected, right? From those who walk with their Covid, knowingly or unknowingly -- and in our innocence we pass them, talk to them, buy from them, sit next to them. But once you know someone's tainted, you know to stay away.

And that's my exertion for the day.

Best part of this July beauty? Breakfast! On the porch. At first with cats...

... but then with Ed. 

 

 

 

We sit far apart and he doesn't stay long, but it is indeed glorious to have him there for a few minutes so that my life wouldn't be a complete pause -- it continues, rolling forward with these diversions but forward nonetheless.

Having time but being without energy means that I read a lot of news stories which of course is up there with mosquitoes in terms of how pleasurable it is. I know all about stubborn denial and paranoia in the very old. Trust me, I know. Where reason ceases to be a guiding principle and you witness something akin to a cemented positioning of belief systems. Nothing, nothing you can say will change a mind. The self-preserving convictions are that strong. 

So here I am, or, here we all are with this pause in our regular summer progression. Everything seems to be standing still. Waiting. For what? Well, in my corner, for the fever to go away and for Covid to recede. Elsewhere? For sanity to prevail.

With love, always with love...