Forty-five days we’ve been in isolation. That’s not nothing. Perhaps it’s silly for me to be keeping count of how many days have passed, as I do with each post. But, if nothing else, I think it might be important for my personal historical record to track how long this experience lasts.
The only exciting thing about today was receiving the grocery order that Molly and I placed yesterday. Strangely, when it arrived, I discovered a half-gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream—my favorite—that I hadn’t ordered. How did they know? The mystery was solved when Molly fessed up to having mischievously snuck it into my online cart without my noticing. (Her treat.) Anyway, now I don’t have to worry about food-gathering for another ten days or so, which is a relief. Do you think the four bags of Boulder Canyon potato chips will last that long? I’m already halfway through the first.
I’ve spent way too much time on Facebook, where I found a photograph of an acquaintance’s golden retriever.
Daytimes, when I’m not endlessly pacing, I find myself spending a lot of time staring blankly out my wide back window into the wee yard below, until some creature wanders into my field of vision: mostly squirrels, of course, but I’m so desperate for entertainment that, instead of chasing them away with waving arms and a squirt gun as usual, I’ve started stalking them with my camera.
Too bad I don’t still live on my 2.5 acres in the Sierra foothills where I saw exciting things like a black bear, and a rabid raccoon, and a ton of skunks, two of which sprayed my beloved hound, Otis. Hmm, maybe I’m better off where I am. Here, the only other thing I spotted was some kind of abundant sparrow-like bird with a slightly red cast to its head that’s building a nest under my neighbor’s eave. I watched it carrying sprigs of dried grass in its beak. And since yesterday a pair of doves has been fluttering around my back porch as though also seeking a new home here. I don’t want that, thank you very much, since they poop on everything beneath them. For now, they’ve spent most of the day together hopping around on the fence, all lovey-dovey. (Oops. Sorry. I thought I was above such things, Lulu.)
When I focused my camera on them a millisecond before this tender moment, I didn’t realize it was the immediate prelude to a far more amorous exchange, so I abruptly dropped my eyes and my lens (because I am a prude) and left them to it.
And out on my front porch, carnage overnight: the corpses, caught in a web, of a bunch of crane flies. They weren’t there yesterday. I’d never seen something like it. I’m guessing that’s the perp in the upper left. He’s hoarding crane flies as though they’re toilet paper.
I’m not sure why I showed you that. Alas, my world has shrunk. Goodnight.
I submit that you continue to keep track of the days to remind yourself of your resilience when you look back on this strange, crappy time.
I have, hands down, the loveliest sister in the world.
She comes by it honestly.
I am deeply relieved that you shan’t perish for lack of ice cream now. WUV!
I like the golden’s ears. They look very fluffy.
I am shocked by your dove pun, and I ought to add it to my running list of “puns my mother has made with which to taunt her” (yes, such a list exists, although it is short).
Eleni: nuh UH, *I* have the loveliest sister in the world! I have studied the matter extensively.
Ginna: I save your posts to savor with my morning coffee. You are indeed an impressive artist, talented photographer and (unwitting? Ha! I’m not so sure about that) humorist. You make the s**t up a stream without a paddle look amusing, wry, and doable. I admire you so!
Dear Syd, and I do mean dear,
Once again I’m touched and flattered by your comment, which I’ve read multiple times. Thanks a million for your encouragement. And BTW, your admiration is reciprocated!
I read these every day. You are good company.
Thank you for this most important study of our backyard. I thought I’d gotten all the angles! LOVE THOSE LOVEY DOVES THEY ARE THEY CUTESTTTTTT
*THE… darnit