Allan G. Hunter's Blog, page 29

Diary 59

Saturday, May 16th

My impression is that various people have decided to relax their stay-at-home self-regulations. Today I noticed that the good weather had tempted out a fair number of motorcycles. I like motorcycles, but the unmuffled roar of the I-don’t-give-a-damn bikes such as I heard in some numbers, well that’s been absent until now. There’s no where for them to go, so I can only assume it was a gesture towards the joys of summer.

A few houses down our neighbors, who had held socially distanced gatherings of four or five in their yard until now, today had a barbeque with much looser social distancing.  It looked like fun. I wish I’d been invited. Perhaps we’re all just a bit tired of this lockdown.

But if we just go back to business as usual we’ll have missed an opportunity to reassess how we live, and how we want our world to be, and what we hope the next few generations will inherit.

Diary 58

Friday, May 15th

My son in law came by to look at the bees. It seems that while the rest of us have been somewhat under-employed (33 million of us, it turns out) that the bees have been busy busy busy.  So much so that we needed to add an extra box to the hive. This we did by lifting the lid on the first box and examining the hive for overall health.

Each frame of comb we pulled out was totally covered with bees, several thousand of them, and we were in our shirts and jeans, no gloves, no veils.  But the bees seemed to know we meant no harm. They were just eager to keep on working to benefit the hive. We were not stung. We were not attacked by protesting bees who wanted to gather in bars and wave their weapons around and sport confederate flags.  And believe me, this lot had their little stingers. All they wanted was the general good for all.

We could learn from bees.

Diary 57

Diary 57

Thursday, May 14th

The days tend to blend into each other, somewhat, and I’m reminded that in the not-so-distant past agricultural communities had to work hard to keep the shape of their week recognizable. The Sunday or Sabbath anchored the week, and preparations for it (cleaning, getting one’s clothes in order, preparing the meal that marked the day) were as inflexible as any office schedule. 

We’re still not quite ready for this, the new self-regulation. Neighbors ask me if this is recycling week or is that next week? And so on. It’s easy to lose track.

Not that this is necessarily bad. I’ve found myself having to make ‘set’ times for exercise. And it works well.  Previously I’d have got in my car, driven to work, walked a few hundred yards to the office, worked, come home tired out – convinced I’d had plenty of physical exercise. I hadn’t.  I was just mentally tired. The external locus of control and valuation had taken over. Now I have to choose to stay fit, and take action to do so.

Old habits are being dissolved.

For me it feels as if I’m taking more charge of my life, for the first time for years.

Diary 56

Diary 56

Wednesday, May 13th

Eight weeks. 

The drama of the missing Siamese enters a new phase: the trap has been set, the owner is convinced it truly is her cat, and she waits anxious and tight-lipped in her car across the road from our house, for hours at a time. I am beginning to think that this may not be her cat, and that the video only snagged an image of the one that lives down the road. Yet she so clearly wants to believe, needs to believe it is her cat. We love our pets, and in a time of lockdown they can be immeasurably consoling to those who are older, alone, and lonely.

Elsewhere in the Grand Duchy of Watertown the river is in its springtime surge, the herons have moved to a sort of island refuge, and while the geese are clearly interested in mating the herons remain aloof from it all.

People leave messages for each other on the sidewalks and on tree roots.

Diary 55

Tuesday, May 12th

55 days, eh? 

Meanwhile Operation Catnip is into a new phase. Yesterday the cat-recovery people set up a camera in our front garden to see if the missing Siamese actually was lurking in the undergrowth. The owner, an older lady, is clearly heartbroken at having lost her cat, and presents a brave face, although despair is not far behind.

It turns out that they actually caught the wee feline on video, and so they’re going to set up a trap for it. I was somewhat relieved about this because it turns out there is another Siamese in the neighborhood, and I had visions of them scooping up the wrong cat, thinking it was, in fact, the wandering Darcy.  Yes, that’s his name. We were even introduced to his rather sad sister, whom I immediately assumed was called Elizabeth, of course, although I have no evidence for that. After all, Jane Austen called Darcy’s sister Georgiana, so I could well be wrong. So the video evidence that this was in fact he was, well, a relief. 

In Austen’s world Darcy and Elizabeth wind up together after various tribulations. We all love a happy ending. I hope it may be the case for this Darcy, too. I hope it may be the case for all of us.

Diary 54

Monday, May 11th

Today brought some unusual things. First of all I invented a new exercise that is suitable for lock-down. I call it ‘where the hell did my wife leave her glasses’. It involves bending down to look underneath chairs, running up and down stairs in case they were left in the attic, reaching up to places she may have put them ‘for now’ and so on. Without her glasses my wife has a little trouble seeing where her glasses are, you see, which is why I do some of the searching. She seems intent on my doing this exercise at least once a day.

The other item also involved searching. It seems that with less traffic about the local cats have taken to wandering further than usual, and then getting lost. So a dear lady who is a ‘Pet Recovery’ professional has now set up a wildlife camera in my front yard, since that was the last place the cat in question was seen. I bet she’ll get some brilliant pictures of the squirrels.

Meanwhile the thing we’re missing is not glasses or cats so much as decent guidance during this pandemic.  Why are we not seeing advice about how we can enhance our immune systems so we don’t collapse when the virus hits? Why are we not being encouraged to take good care of ourselves in terms of nutrition? We can do more – so that we’re not sitting ducks. 

Diary 53

Sunday, May 10th

Mothers’ Day – a day well worth celebrating, to acknowledge mothers everywhere, the act of mothering, and especially the source of us all – Mother Earth.

Today also marked the day when people within the White House started to come down with covid, and Fauci went into quarantine. I don’t wish bad things to anyone, but I can’t help thinking that a dose of good old reality might be salutary for some of the present incumbents. It’s when it hits close to home that it becomes real.

I’ll attach a picture of ‘my’ bees doing what they do best. I wish the White House would do the same. Our “president” was doing just fine as a small time swindler and real estate fraud. As a leader, though, he’s far less impressive.

Oh, and remember: Flynn pleaded guilty twice; now charges have been dropped. 

Diary 52

Saturday, May 9th

Even the skies seemed to weep today, as wet snow (that did not settle, at least here) arrived throughout the day, and winds tossed the tree tops about. Almost 80,000 deaths so far in the US didn’t cheer us up much, either.

People seem to be their usual inconsistent selves, though. At one store in my neighborhood the restrictions are clear: no mask, no service; no more than five people in the store at one time; keep six feet apart; only one person per aisle. A couple of doors down another very similar store seems to be good about masks, but it regularly allows more than five people in, and they all tend to bunch up around the till, push past each other in the aisles and so on. I’m not faulting the store owners. The store is that shape it is. I’m just astonished that people, when called on to behave thoughtfully, will do so — and then less than a hundred yards away they (and I) will totally forget.

As humans we tend to think we can get away with all kinds of stuff, that the laws don’t apply to us, really – like those speed limits that seem to be suggestions rather than laws. Guess what, folks? That doesn’t apply with a virus.

Dairy 51

Friday, May 8th

My erstwhile countrymen and women in England hold this day close to their hearts. It marked the end, in 1945, of the European war. Massive relief, and everyone thought they could go back to normal – except that they still had to fight and beat the Japanese, of course, which took many more lives. But back home there were no more blackouts, no more flying bombs or threats of worse. So today, quietly, in socially distanced ceremonies, the UK gave thanks and remembered.

Of course it wasn’t back to ‘normal’. Food rationing went on for another ten whole years. Bombed out areas of major cities remained that way, in some cases, until the mid 1960s. The country was bankrupt, and it showed.

Recovery takes time. We may want to think about that.

Diary 50

Thursday, May 7th

Many, many thanks to you all, dear friends, for your birthday wishes. I was very touched to see them. So now I’ll share a thought with you:

When I was a callow youth I used to think it’d be cool to be surrounded by cheering fans. 

When I got a bit older I thought it’d be great to have a bunch of folks who loved me. 

Yesterday I found out what I’ve actually wanted all these years – a small group of people whom I really love.  And in that group was a very special sub-group. My grandkids, their mum and dad, my wife – all singing me happy birthday, was the finest present I could ever have wished for. I am grateful. I feel blessed.