Archive for the ‘August’ Category
August 31, 2020
August ends our summer in quarantine, that followed our spring in quarantine, and soon our autumn in quarantine will begin. I try for patience.
August 30, 2020
Today I finally find the energy to once again start my day with a walk. The air is cool and I am feeling less lethargic, perhaps because of the new protocol that seems to be “curing” the chronic cough that has been dogging me off and on for the past couple of years. Whatever the reason, it’s lovely to finally be back to myself, one aspect anyway, even in the midst of our political and pandemic turmoil.
August 29, 2020
Finally– rain! I get soaked on the way home from the farmers’ market, and couldn’t be happier. Not a deluge, but fairly steady all day long. What a relief! I make a delicious ratatouille from today’s produce purchases and work on music as temperatures cool and the air begins to smell like autumn.
August 28, 2020
We head to the beach– late afternoon, leery of crowds, but needing with every fiber of my being to be somewhere open and calm. Somewhere that is not my home or the destination of an errand. Fierce winds from the water, crashing waves, a picnic supper and ginger ice cream on the way back. Mission accomplished– this tiny getaway before August and summer end.
August 27, 2020
I’m finding it hard to move forward through the jello-like heat and humidity, the onslaught of lies from convention coverage, the decreasing prospects of playing music again with friends, for others, in rehearsal and concert halls. At least not in the near future. I read alot, write music, eat and drink too much, water my garden, stay up too late, spend too much time actively seeking distraction. Time moves slowly and yet suddenly another week has gone by. I try not to let these feelings out often as I don’t want to let down the collective brave front. But some days…
week 619 ~ as the neighbors too loudly conversing
as the neighbors too loudly conversing
and leaf blowers sing their songs of autumn
the days grow shorter and time reversing
steps away to make a call just a crumb
of silence a moment is all I seek
to rest my mind stop my ears from hearing
the lies that cause me angst for future’s bleak
warning won’t be drowned out by noise fearing
the worst won’t hold it back looking askance
at time won’t reinstate its old routine
helicopters roaring in the distance
sirens portend chaos sadness unseen
oh to hear nothing but wind through the leaves
a breath of solace as tomorrow grieves
August 23, 2020
I woke up today wondering how we will ever describe this 6+ months of pandemic to others, until I realized– with a start– that we won’t have to because everyone in the whole world is living through this. It’s not like a blizzard or a hurricane, rioting or fires, disasters having a geographical address. This is everyone. Only those as yet unborn will not have this in their subconscious for the rest of their lives. Only they will need descriptions, explanations. And that responsibility will belong to those far younger than me. I have to live through this, but I will never be asked in future years for the story of this lost half year.
