Wrapping Up April

As the last of the April showers fall, I sit here reflecting on why I keep writing sixty-one days in.

First I’ll confess that on three separate occasions I either did not write, or neglected to post, which is why I have two entries for April 22nd, 26th and 28th. But I am committed to 100 days, like some of our more stalwart students. I just want to know what it feels like. Beyond that, I don’t know yet.

I think it will be interesting to look back on these several months of quarantine years hence. I’m still hopeful that it will remain a unique time in our history rather than a frequent or ongoing occurrence. But that remains to be seen. For now I will just keep writing, and bid this cool, rainy April farewell. I enjoyed the extra-long bloom time of my tulips, azaleas, and lilacs. Thanks for that. I also appreciate the lush green grass, even if it means weekly mowing.

Now I look ahead to May, when tomatoes begin taking root and showing promise. Vegetable gardens will soon be fully planted, and the steady sun will begin to bake away Covid-19, allowing us all a some cautious freedom. Or so we hope.

The Hardest Goodbyes

Brian's cousin had to make the hardest of pet-person decisions yesterday. She said goodbye to her sweet, affectionate cat boy, Mogget. As I chatted with her the day prior and then again yesterday afternoon, after that last trip to the vet, memories of my final days with Waldo came flooding back to me. I was so fortunate to be able to have a mobile veterinarian - my friend from college, no less - come to our home so I could say goodbye here. That happened in April of 2009.

There is no escape from grief when you are under quarantine. There are no funerals, either. No gatherings to share stories, to laugh or cry, to hug. How are folks who've lost family members and close friends coping with these limitations? When will all of the memorials be allowed to take place? Will they ever take place? Or will folks just do their own small tributes and then move on?

Aunt Mary remains in the rehab center, not getting worse, but not making noticeable strides to get better either. My cousins find it excruciating to not be there with her, even though they have been receiving regular communication from the doctor (whose own 90 year old mother is experiencing similar symptoms) along with assurances of compassionate care from the nurses and CNAs. These could well be Aunt Mary's final days. We just don't know yet. But I remember how long it took Mom to fight through sepsis a couple of Augusts and Septembers ago. They have the same tough fiber, these two. So I am hopeful that Aunt Mary will pull through this.

Meanwhile, the sun is now shining for the first time in a week, and I must head outside to clean the lower gutters and mow the neighbor’s yard. 

Brave New World

Now that we are all old pros at MS Teams meetings, and a weekly schedule of CLTs has been in place for almost a month, we are gradually adding Office Hours to the mix. By the end of this week each of us will have logged an hour on the Canvas Conference feature, mostly in two 30 minute segments. This is all new technology to most of us.

On MS Teams we've learned to mute the audio to improve the overall quality of the feed, and also how to mute the video when we don't want to be seen. Some folks have installed backgrounds of their choice; others have chosen a permanent profile picture. On Canvas Conference we are learning how to make the students visible to one another, and not just to the teacher.

Some folks are using Seesaw, others Flip Grid. Still others have learned how to insert video of themselves directing students through directions on their Canvas page. One teacher continues to post videos about how to use captions in You Tube. These are all amazing strides that folks are making in the name of asynchronous teaching and learning.

If anyone had asked us two months ago about any of this, we might have responded with a blank stare or shrugged shoulders. So I just want to take a moment, here, to think about what has been achieved in so little time. And to breathe. Because life and learning is changing too quickly right now, and sometimes we just need to take a few deep breaths to catch up with ourselves.

An Abundance of Caution

Yesterday afternoon I ventured into Costco for the first time in at least a month. All I needed was a dozen bags of the Whitney Farms organic soil, and fortunately I found them not more than 20 steps into the building. A dozen bags on my cart later, and only 60 steps across the first aisle, a Costco employee directed me to the checkout station at the far left. In less than 20 minutes I was in and out with what I needed, loaded and gone. Beauty!

Two employees were stationed outside the main entrance, disinfecting cart handles. The membership card checker and greeter was inside a plexiglass booth, as was the parking ticket validator. All of the checkout clerks were behind tall panels of plexiglass that ran the entire length of the checkout station. The whole process was safe and seamless. I was impressed with the transformation.

So I wonder...

... now that plexiglass is in place everywhere, will there be a rush to un-install it when our society reopens for business? Will it be viewed as unfriendly and impersonal? Or can we just leave it in place, offering the most vulnerable among us increased safety in a future when they finally dare to leave home once again?

... can we take some of what we've learned about safe social distancing and personal hygiene with us into the coming year, until we're safely through the second wave that is predicted for Fall? This is what I would like to see, not just for outward safety, but to save our sensory systems from the jolt that awaits us if we suddenly throw caution to the wind.

... what will our new normal look like, long term?

Pitching In Together

This morning we are cleaning the house. We've settled into a good routine. Molly and I team up for the bathrooms: I do the fixtures; she does the floors. Brian tackles the kitchen, because really it's his domain now. Then Molly vacuums the entire house. I honestly get off easy, but then again... I recently gave the entire basement a once-over, and I do all the outdoor upkeep.

Since Will has ongoing laundry and garbage duty, we let him slide on cleaning chores. I'm tempted to say who trusts a 14 year old boy to clean their house when he's doing well to take showers, brush teeth, wear his retainer, and use deodorant. But honestly, he's doing alright with all of that, considering that it really is so easy to forget without our regular routines gone. However there was a time not so very long ago when he avoided showers like... well, the pandemic.

This strange period of our lives has shown me that the four of us work well together as a team. Admittedly, there is very little stress in our daily lives, besides the obvious. But we pretty much divide and conquer where the household is concerned. I remember being so concerned that hiring regular housecleaners five years ago would leave my children irreparably spoiled and unable to fend for themselves, but that has not proven to be the case. They have stepped up to the plate time and time again, since quarantine began, and even beforehand as they've gradually matured.

I feel lucky every day to be quarantined with teenagers rather than toddlers, in a house that needs to be cleaned, by people willing to pitch in.

New Favorite Gift

Ever since Grandma Kathie sent Molly a micro greens growing kit for Christmas, I have been giving the same kits to other folks in my life.

I remember begin intrigued by Ms. Gavin's micro greens set-up in the Library during the Winter of 2019, shortly before her retirement. Our set-up is a different one, without a grow light, and with only one rectangular growing tray. It comes with three seed quilts which we grow one at a time. The entire cycle is about ten days, and the harvested greens last in the fridge on a moist paper towel for easily two weeks.

I recently ordered additional seed quilts for our kit. Apart from the Super Salad Mix and the Spicy Daikon Radish, which we've already enjoyed, I chose from this list:

Hearty Broccoli
Refreshing Cabbage
Energizing Kale
Zesty Mix
Sweet Wheatgrass
Earthy Clover
Fragrant Fenugeek
Hot Wasabi Mustard

The greens are a tasty addition to bagels and lox, omelets or scrambled eggs in street tortillas, sandwiches and soups.

I am becoming the Johnny Appleseed of micro greens kits!

Nature Knocking At My Door

In the past several days we’ve enjoyed watching the wildlife in our back yard. Two days ago, before the rain arrived, two squirrels raced and chased each other up the tree, down the tree, along the fence, around the bush, and across the lawn, then back again, as through completing a timed obstacle course. Meanwhile two bunnies dashed out of their way, then sat very still, dashed out of their way, sat very still. Finally the cautious bunnies tired of the ridiculous squirrels and made a run for the river rock drainage bed that doubles as an escape route to our neighbor’s yard.

Birds are back. The robins came first. Then the cardinals and blue jays. Finally the finches, who don’t usually show up (or get noticed) until a thistle sock lures them closer. I’ve also seen one greedy old crow surveying the situation from our willow oak. Fortunately he continued on his way, as I’m not fan of scavenger crows. Truth be told, the blue jays are scavengers, too. But who can resist their colorful, stately presence? Not I. 

My neighbor across the street has raccoons that recently tore up her glider cushions. We haven’t noticed them over here since we started using bungees to make our garbage bin inaccessible. I truly love those masked marauders. I find them fascinating to watch, when I get the chance, because of their dexterous hands. Foxes are prevalent, but not usually noticeable, with the exception of a week ago tonight. (See Midnight Mystery.) There have also been one or two coyote sightings in the neighborhood, down towards Doctor’s Run Park, and occasionally deer. But that’s it as far as big game go. No black bears, no bobcats, no mountain lions.

The world is quieter now. The pace of life, slower. We are home with open windows all around and a schedule that allows us to go outside on a whim. These are the perks, or potential pitfalls, of working from home. Time and opportunity to marvel at nature and its inhabitants is our daily reward.

Elder Update

I'm happy to report that Aunt Mary completed a five day treatment in the hospital and is being released to a rehab center only seven miles from her home. We now have an address where we can send notes of encouragement, and my cousin is hoping for a first floor room so that she can at least see her through the window.

My Mom has a first floor room, which helps me in planning for her 94th birthday in May. I am allowed to buy and deliver a cake, which will be a frozen and thawed Pepperidge Farm coconut cake, one of her faves. Flowers, too. I just have to wipe down the cake packaging and the vase with Chlorox wipes and place both items outside the front door of Yoder House. Additionally, I will refresh the thistle socks on the bird feeder poles outside Mom's first floor bedroom window, where I can also wave hello and possibly even attempt some conversation if they are willing to crack the window a bit. 

Reaching age ninety-four is significant to Mom because it is the age she believes her mother lived to, so it has been a goal of hers to get to ninety-four. The fact that Grammie Moyer lived to ninety-six is irrelevant, here. I have long-since learned that with dementia, you don't correct or haggle. You go with whatever line of thought the patient has in order to keep the conversation going as long as possible. Interaction is the goal. Repetition happens. Nonsensical turns from topic to topic are expected. Being there in person is key. 

As hard as it's been to not visit in person for the past six weeks, I feel good about Mom's accommodations and her caregivers. She's in a good situation, all options being what they are. Frequent communications from the Vice President of Supportive Living indicate that not a single resident of the community has contracted Covid-19. A kitchen staff member in Assisted Living tested positive several weeks ago, but quarantine along with the identification and subsequent quarantine of those in contact with that individual has contained the spread. A rehab patient who is not a regular resident of the retirement community arrived from the hospital with Covid-19, but like my Aunt Mary the situation is under control and proper measures are being taken for the entire length of that patient's stay. So I am feeling somewhat encouraged, for today.

This Old House

One legacy of my having moved into the little white bungalow on South Nelson Street that first belonged to my then-fiancé is that his clothes already filled the tiny master bedroom closet, and his dresser claimed the only usable wall space, given that the room has a sloping roofline and double windows. Therefore, my dresser went into the little half bedroom next door and to this day I use the tiny closet in that room. I think of it as my dressing room, but it is also a little office with a comfy floral reading chair that swivels and rocks.

These days I have to time my dressing around Brian's video conferences, or risk being caught on one of my own conferences in pajamas. His little "Video Camera in Use" sign on the door at least alerts me to whether or not it's safe to enter, so thank goodness we've had no naked wife mishaps so far. If I'm really on top of things, I move my next day's clothes into the bathroom so I don't have to pay attention to his schedule. On days when I do not have any conferences, I've been known to hang out in my pajamas all morning.

I do love that every single space in our house gets used every day by someone. We expanded back from the original house in 2004 to make room for a family, yet families were raised in this house for decades before it became ours. People must have been either very good sleepers, or exhausted every night from hard physical labor to have managed in one and a half bedrooms, with one bathroom. Though the original roofline bathroom closet was long enough to have accommodated a full grown sleeping person, if it came to that.

My cat, Waldo, and I moved in right before Brian's mother and aunt came to visit for two weeks in the Spring of 1999. They had come to look at venues for a rehearsal dinner near our wedding site for the following October, and to meet me of course. The brilliance of my moving in then, right before their visit, is that the house felt less crowded afterwards to Brian, with just me and my cat, than it had for the entire two weeks of all five of us. So I got to stay. And here I am twenty-one years later, feeling really lucky to have enough space that all four of us can be on different MS Teams conferences at the same time without any interference.

Flip Grid FTW

This morning I accepted the challenge to try some new technology in honor of Earth Day: https://flipgrid.com/tjmsearthday2020

For a week, now, we’ve been enjoying finches right outside the family room window. It took almost a week for them to discover the new thistle sock that I put out earlier this month. The curved pole holding the thistle sock marks the spot where I buried Waldo’s ashes eleven years ago this month. He loved watching birds out the back window, so I thought it a fitting tribute. We were close. He was the old soul who was with me during my single condo days in Alexandria, and he saw me safely into my new life here in Arlington.

Love You, Aunt Mary

Two days ago I learned that my Mom's younger sister went to the hospital with what was assumed to be another urinary tract infection. She was feverish and disoriented, which were symptoms of the same infection a year or so ago. But it turns out she doesn't have a UTI. Today the test results came back positive for Covid-19.

She is down to two liters of oxygen a day, and they are trying her on a cocktail of drugs that have yielded some improvement in other patients. The Physician Assistant said that she has really "perked up" in the past two days, and that he is "cautiously optimistic". My cousins, her daughters, were planning to Face Time with her this afternoon, so we will know more tomorrow.

Aunt Mary is the keeper of the family stories. She loves history, and once belonged to the Hunterdon County, NJ "Hysterical Society". She and Uncle Albert shared a quirky sense of humor. The day that two Mormon Missionaries showed up at their door, Mary and Al offered the boys a place to live if they promised not to try and convert them. The boys took them up on the offer, and they kept their promise. The Freemans remained steadfast Methodists throughout the rest of their days together.

So many poignant visuals have been flooding back to me these past couple of days, since learning of my aunt's illness. The four foot hollyhocks at the edge of the woods behind their home. The antique wicker furniture on their sun porch, and all the paintings crowding their walls. The vintage Heisey glassware, and the toile drapes with velvet sashes. The Fourth of July picnics out back with the lightening bugs, and pies with homemade pie crust. So many good family times, but never quite enough of them either.

We wait, and we worry. We dare to hope, and we send our thought-prayers her way. The text thread of cousins links us to every new development and helps us stand strong. There will be more news tomorrow.




   

                   

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

It's been several years since I've tried to plant Impatiens. Not the New Guinea variety, but what I think of as the basic shade-loving variety. I first fell in love with these delicate, bunching beauties at my Cousin Mona's wedding in Clinton, New Jersey. Aunt Mary and Uncle Albert's old painted lady Victorian sat on one side of the cemetery, and the church on the other. I remember walking through the cemetery to the backyard reception, and I remember centerpieces of Impatiens in little wooden pots on all the rented cafe tables.

A few years ago none of the nurseries were carrying classic Impatiens because of a fungus that had taken hold of them at most of the area growers. I was forced to migrate away from them to Tuberous Begonias, which I still enjoy. But this year my old friends look particularly strong and healthy again, so I'm giving them another go. I'm going bold, with a mix of light pink, dark pink, light coral, dark coral white and red, which is pretty much all of the colors they come in except for a lavenderish-purple that never seems to make it into the mixture. I found them at the W&L plant sale, which offered drive-by pick up and loading this year.

After taking much care in planting: Bio-tone in the hole, organic planting soil all around the plants roots, and a gentle watering of each individual plant; I sprinkled some blood meal all around the area in an attempt to keep the squirrels and other critters out of them until they grow stronger and can hold their own. They now reside around the base of the River Birch, easily visible from the family room picture window, not far from the finch feeder. I am hopeful that my patience of the past several years will be rewarded with a colorful show that lasts all summer long.

Hardening Off

This afternoon I moved four trays of tomato babies outside to the wilds of my front bed. It was time. They need to “harden off” and prepare to be planted later this week. I’m so proud of my effort this Spring. There will be enough tomatoes for the community garden and for my own small patch, along with others to share.

The varieties this year are Sun Gold, Beefsteak, Early Girl and Celebrity (all hybrids) plus Brandywine Pinks (heirloom). Last year’s sun golds were prolific oval drops of sunshine, just sweet enough, plucked from the vine and popped into the mouths of hungry Garden Club members every Friday afternoon. Even so we bagged them by the dozens for our AFAC harvests. My Beefsteaks here at home filled platter after platter of Caprese salad from July to September. 

Now that the tomato babies have vacated the porch, my niece’s succulents and our micro-green mini farm will get first dibs on the window sills, and my husband will get his bike commuter staging surface back again. It’s been very crowded out there this month. But life moves on, and soon we will all be moving on, too. I wonder if we’ll need to “harden off” before we return to the big wide world? 

Midnight Mystery

Last night I heard screaming coming from outside. It was an eerie, plaintive sound. At first I thought it might be the build-up to a cat fight. But two whining, sputtering cats would have already been brawling by the time I reached the den window. Lights off, I gently raised the window just enough to detect a clearer sample of the sound, when suddenly all went pin-drop quiet.

I waited a few moments, trying to convince myself that whatever animals had been lost, scared or threatened were now continuing on their way. But just as I was about to close the window and head to bed, I saw it in the neighbor’s porch light at the edge of their yard. Easily four feet long, but only two feet off the ground, an orangey glimmer was heading purposefully around to the far side of the house. Once out of sight, the screaming resumed. This animal was not lost, but looking for something or someone.

My brain finally locked in the visual, and my memory harkened back to the strange chattering and screaming noises out back of Cousin Mona’s house in Kittery, Maine that night almost two summers ago. What I’d just seen and heard was an adult fox. You Tube confirmed for me that a Vixen’s screaming can mean that it's mating season.

Foxes are not a rare sight in this neighborhood on the edge of two wooded areas that bleed into Four Mile Run, with a wooded trail that leads beyond the inner suburbs. But typically these stealth creatures are hunting and scavenging, and almost always completely silent. Satisfied with a plausible solution, I slept soundly for the first time in several nights.

Today I Need a Reset

This week we are reaching out to students who’ve not been engaging in online learning. If any of these students are failing any classes for the year, we will refer them on to admin and our social worker for further efforts at contact. If we can get them to engage, and help them through the super standards in the class or classes they are failing, then we will be able to send them on to the next grade level next year. If not? What then?

It really wouldn’t be ethical to fail students who haven’t been engaged. What we may need, instead, is an extra effort in the Fall, assuming we are back in school by then. Maybe a three day per week study hall, actively staffed by teachers who know the students involved, for the months of September-October? Something required of these students to ensure they get off to a better start next school year, ideally. For the time being, many of these students have checked out for reasons not easy to determine. I also wonder to what extent we should be poking around in a family’s circumstances and/or parent to student dynamic.

Some days, like today, I find myself struggling to stay checked in to my work life. Usually when I feel this way I reach out to my colleagues to see how I can support them, or I jump onto a discussion board and respond to students there. Right now I just want to curl up into a tiny ball and pretend that none of this is really happening. In normal times I would schedule a mental health day in order to do a reset. But these aren’t normal times. In online schooling the expectations are clearly spelled out in email after email, but the actual reality is less clear on any given day.

So I respond to a Sped teacher’s request for input on an IEP she is writing, I send rows of student names for Garden Club members back to the teacher compiling our yearbook, I practice Canvas Conferencing with one co-teacher, I hunt down my TA partner in Houston, of all places (where I actually have a favorite restaurant to recommend to him), and I show up to my eighth MS Teams meeting in three days. But now, I think it’s time to get outside, do some mowing, head up to the school garden and work on that reset.

Working It Out At Home

I am so over MS Teams meetings, and (until this week) I've only have five or fewer a week, compared to my husband’s schedule of three or four conferences daily. But he works for a bunch of Type As who have convinced themselves that what they do during these times is essential, when actually it is not. Which isn’t to say that their initiatives aren’t worthwhile. (See www.nasa.gov for NASA at Home.)

Brian has put quite a bit of thought into the ergonomics of his work space, elevating and tilting his laptop screen, adding a portable keyboard to his arrangement, and soon an adjustable footstool. Each improvement has meant another bike ride to Best Buy to pick up a pre-ordered item outside the store. The chair itself is also a recent upgrade. Given how many hours per day he spends ensconced in his telecommuting bunker, I understand his need for ergonomic excellence.

So far my teleconferences have been taking place on our enclosed front porch, in the company of my tomato babies and bright sunlight. But I’m used to moving around all day, and so the idea of spending hours in one room, at the same desk, in the same chair or position is repugnant to me. Even with coffee breaks. Being downstairs on the porch, at the kitchen counter, or on the family room sofa, I am visible and accessible to our two teenaged scholars-in-residence. They mostly don’t need me, but when they do, I’m here.

Nationals Reunion

Last night I fell asleep before posting, while watching a replay of Game 7 of the 2019 World Series. “MASN Dan” (Dan Kolko) hosted a Zoom watch party and got most of the Nationals together for several hours, even the guy who’s now playing (or quarantining) in Japan.

Earlier in the day Ryan & Heather Zimmerman started a fundraiser called “Pros for Heros” to raise money to provide meals (and eventually PPE) for local health care providers and their families. By the time I fell asleep the fund was over $200,000. The Zimmermans had started it off with $100,000, and other professional athletes from the DC sports community had also chipped in generously. 

Seeing the guys together again, laughing and teasing each other, missing baseball, and wanting to get back out there again warmed my heart. Like everyone, they are stuck in this Groundhog Day perpetual existence. But they are also getting and appreciating more time with their families, which is a rarity for them this time of year.

Cue Take Me Out to the Ball Game....

Goodnight Already

Trouble sleeping? Who, me?

Wrestling with how to reach my caseload students has led me to the conclusion that I need my own Canvas page as a platform for communication. So my goal this week is to launch something by Friday. No small task for my tech-avoidant self.

Insomnia led me to a dreadful place this evening: the Arlington Education Matters (AEM) group Facebook page. Reading through one entire thread containing mostly APS parent responses to our plan to “teach no new content” during fourth quarter made my chest tighten and my blood boil. The originator of the post even suggested that if teachers are too distracted by the life going on around them at home, then perhaps they need to give back part of their paycheck. WTF?!

I really need to not go to that toxic place anymore, even though there is always sane backlash from the more empathic and reasonable people in the group. Perspectives that need to be heard. But are they listening? Sigh.

Sleep finally beckons. I must go.

Surplus in Times of Need

Three extra cans of baking powder sit on the front porch table. We only needed one, but for the first couple weeks of this "new normal",  baking supplies of any kind were scarce on grocery shelves. So I tacked on the smallest quantity I could find to another incoming order, and since then Brian found a can at Giant. Of course.

We now order two dozen fresh eggs along with our mid-week milk delivery from South Mountain Creamery. But we also continue to support the Columbia Pike Farmers' Market with our weekly purchase of two dozen fresh eggs and produce there. So we are rolling in eggs on Easter Sunday. We could hard boil and paint them, I suppose, but instead we are planning Easter omelets for brunch and this evening, a classic cheese soufflé from Julia Child's The Art of French Cooking.

Toilet Paper was already well-stocked before it became the hottest item since Nationals World Series tickets. Then my niece gifted us the remaining multi-pack from her dorm suite three weeks ago as she loaded her worldly goods into our basement and entrusted us with the care of her succulents. It's all one-ply Scotts, which lasts longer than Quilted Northern or Charmin.

We want for nothing, here. Nor are we intentionally hoarding. But I won't lie... that toilet paper feels like a stash of gold buillon. And every time I walk into the kitchen, I hear the whir and trickle of fresh coffee. If there's any stockpiling happening in this house, it's most likely one pound bags of decaffeinated comfort buried deep in our basement freezer.  The coffee pot will never run dry, even if the toilet paper supply eventually dwindles.

A Day Well Spent

This morning I was in the school garden by 10:03am. I started hoeing a row until our Saturday morning Deloitte volunteer arrived. He chose to begin by sanding the shed ramp that he'd helped to rebuild last fall at one of our Deloitte work days, back when we could welcome a whole group of people into the garden at the same time. Between coats of stain, he pitched and wheeled several wheelbarrow loads of leaf mulch over to my row, dumped them into piles, and raked the mulch evenly over my carefully-laid cardboard.

Around noon I dashed home to wash the staining brush, grab several potted plants, and say a brief hello to my family and to my neighbor friends across the street who'd traveled back from Winchester to do more packing and hauling from their old house, now under contract. I was momentarily sorry that I'd booked myself so tightly today, but off I went to Paul and Sharon's Lyon Park bungalow for the next round of gardening.

There, I weeded a 12 x 5 x 2 foot flower bed with precision, using every position I'd learned last fall in Yoga, and then some. Next, I tackled their line of four boxwood bushes with abandon, thinning here, chopping out deadwood there, trimming away the heaviness and restoring some personality to these resilient garden soldiers.

By that time, Paul and Sharon had finished another weeding project and were planting the four foot tall Red-Twigged Dogwood bush that I had recommended for their troublesome corner. We all stood back and admired how striking the fan of red stems looks against the blue-gray siding and the white brick foundation. I was especially proud to be introducing them to the concept of "winter interest".

After we planted flowers in the newly-weeded beds, I scurried back to the school garden to finish up a few quick chores there, then home to take care of my own short-list of plant-related duties. A soaking bath, dinner with wine, and I'm ready to fall into bed, ever thankful that my family supports my need for weekly garden therapy.

Senior Project, Plan B

Molly originally planned her Senior Project around a Spring Break trip to Greece. At this very moment she should be cruising the Mediterranean somewhere between Mykonos and Santorini. Or perhaps they’d be heading back to Athens by now.

Having already researched Greek architecture, her best photos from the trip were to be turned into water colors at our dining room table during the last three weeks of May. This collection of a dozen or so paintings was intended as a surprise for the art teacher who has been near and dear to her heart ever since sixth grade.

Enter Senior Project, Plan B.  Pre-cut cedar planks for two 4 x 4 foot garden beds, ten bags of organic garden soil, and one hunk of peat moss await assemblage and the return of a warm day. The new plan is to raise vegetables for AFAC this summer because of the increased need for food in our community. The old drill is at the ready with batteries charging. We have just enough room next to my existing 4 x 8 tomato bed to lay the additional footage.

Maybe she’ll do a few watercolors of her Victory Garden instead.

Clean House

It's been two weeks and two days since our house was last professionally cleaned. That day we paid Hermalinda double the usual amount and agreed we'd touch base a month later. Every-other-week is our usual pattern.

So today Molly and I tackled the three bathrooms and all of the floors on two levels of the house. She was the driving force in this effort, which pleased me immensely. I threw all of the bathroom floor mats into the washer while she mopped those floors. I used the smaller, wearable vacuum to clean all of the bathroom ceiling fans and furnace intake vents. I also swept the kitchen and mud porch floors. While she vacuumed everywhere else, I cleaned the bathroom fixtures. Then we converged on the family room sofa and did a thorough job of every cushion, both sides, as well as the underbelly where all of the crumbs converge.

Meanwhile, Will carried laundry and collected garbage. He also picked up his room. Tomorrow I will help Will vacuum the basement “Bro Cave”. Brian has promised to tackle the kitchen, his domain, on Saturday. Then we will be up and running for another two weeks.

What a spoiled existence we've lived for the past five years of Hermalinda! While it was nice to know that we can get it done, I for one will be very happy to have her back when it's safe to intermingle again.

Goat Gone Rogue

A retired teacher friend has a country home in Toms Brook, over in the Shenandoah Valley. For a couple of years now, her Facebook page has recorded periodic sightings of a lone black and white goat whom she and her neighbors call Gilbert.

Gilbert lives on the fringes of their lives, occasionally folding himself into a lawn chair for a nap, or venturing onto a porch or carport for protection from the rain. Evidently, about six months ago a small herd of deer adopted Gilbert, and today a Funkhouser Oil truck driver shared a video of that herd crossing the road in front of him with...... a goat?!! 

My friend was as excited about the video, which she shared on Facebook for Gilbert’s many fans, as the truck driver likely was for an explanation of what he thought he’d seen. After two years of fandom, today I finally learned Gilbert’s origin story. An escapee from a local slaughterhouse, now he runs with deer. And that is the story of a self-made goat who has brought unexpected joy to a little corner of Shenandoah County, Virginia.

Stupid Is as Stupid Does

Why does an eleven year old boy jump into a hole too deep to climb out of?  Did he follow the younger boys in, or did they follow him? They could have hit the rebar! What then?!

When I was growing up, on a hill overlooking our town, new construction emerged every couple of years as each lot was sold off. We were the fourth house to go in, and there were seven more that followed us during my childhood. I'm fairly certain we snooped around in every last one of them as they were being built. Like sirens, they called to us on quiet summer evenings, as the last glow of light disappeared over the horizon. I specifically remember jumping out of the second floor of one house into a pile of sand, likely on a dare. What we did was dangerous and stupid, but to us each house was a new adventure.

A neighbor heard the boys yelling for help and gave them a hand by lowering a ten or twelve foot ladder into the hole. My bet is that they go back and conquer that hole by the time the footers are in. I'm pretty sure I might have done the same thing way back when.

South Nelson Street Blues

Construction continues on two different houses down the street. From his telecommuting bunker upstairs at the front of the house, my husband laments the coming and going of big trucks along with all the noise and dust they create. This goes on all day, every day. At least the house closest to us is nearing completion. But today is especially noisy and congested with utility vehicles and drills that rattle your soul.

Meanwhile showings continue at the house across the street that went live this weekend. It’s a charming but quirky bungalow with cedar siding and newly-refinished wood floors throughout. But with three bedrooms and two full bathrooms, it’s sure to go quickly to the highest bidder. Everything sells fast around here. The owners of 25 years have been planning their escape to Winchester for over a year now. They, their two dogs, and two cats added a lot of character to our street that will be sorely missed. They were also our season ticket holder partners for the past two years. And our cat sitters. But most importantly, our friends.

We still have several old timers left on South Nelson Street. I ran into Mr. Ben at the mulch pit on Saturday. Diane and CC are right next door to the latest tear-down, so no open windows for them right now. Beth has been out walking the neighborhood daily, but Grizzly has been holed up in his house when not out fishing. Life goes on in some ways. But we’re looking forward to a little less activity here on our typically quiet corner of the neighborhood.

Pandemic Lawn Party

Armed with our own lawn chairs and a couple of Blue Moons, we headed over to the Lyon Park neighborhood to help a good friend celebrate his 60th birthday corona-style.

Our chosen time slot was 5:15. Others were there as early as 3:00pm, but never more than seven or eight well-wishers at once. It was strangely wonderful to see folks face-to-face, even at the requisite six-foot distance. For a short while, here at the end of Week Three, we were almost able to forget about this strange predicament that has hi-jacked our lives.

I chose to walk the two miles home afterwards, which was a nice end cap to an otherwise lazy Sunday. It felt good to stretch my legs, but even better to celebrate a friend’s milestone.

Water Boy

I’m so fortunate to have a live-in Water Boy!

If there are potted azaleas not yet planted, he’s my guy. Two lengths of sod to keep alive, awaiting installment beside the stone slabs for the new pathway, I’m covered. At this point he knows which garden plants he can water “with a Gatorade shower”, and which require a more gentle touch. His enthusiasm for what I thought would be received as yet another chore is delightful. But then, he’s always been our Water Boy.

As a tot, he loved bath time and often spent up to an hour in the tub, transferring water from cup to cup, sinking boats with with waterfalls from different heights, and learning to hold his breath underwater long before most toddlers do. Sprinklers in the back yard were great afternoon fun until the summer that swim lessons finally began.

Once swimming, he’d stay in the pool for as long as we were willing. His second swim teacher, who set up elaborate obstacles for him to swim through, said she’d never seen a kid so comfortable underwater. He relished cannonballs, front flips and eventually diving from the low board. Undaunted by slides of any height or length, water parks soon became his favorite outings. Now the best fun he can fathom is riding ocean waves with his snowboard, a rare treat.

What ever made me think he’d balk at a chore involving water?!

The War Effort

In my spare time I’ve been watching mask-making videos, which range greatly from employing elastic to bias tape to floral wire. Some have flannel on the inside with a special backing that is different from the front material. Others have only two layers. They all seem to have pleats and tightly-woven cotton material. The non-sewing version of DIY masks involves bandanas and elastic hair ties, with an elaborate folding pattern that is cumbersome at best. The stated degree of their usefulness ranges widely as well. But since we are now entering the most dangerous two weeks of this pandemic cycle, the need for masks seems to be ramping up, depending on who you follow.

There are two sewing machines sitting in our basement. My mother’s old Singer has tension issues that are beyond me at this point, but hers is the familiar machine that I learned on as a teenager. My late MIL’s Janome is specifically meant for quilting and was one of the few prized possessions she brought along in that last car trip to Virginia from Texas. Do I just let them both sit there, unused? Or do I try my hand at mask-making? Better yet, do I loan them to someone else who might be more adept at mask-making than I suspect I would be after all these years? I’d certainly rather spend my Spring Break outside in a Plot Against Hunger.

Using our existing skills and abilities in the most strategic way means doing what we already know how to do best, and giving necessary supplies or support to others who can do what they do best. On that note, I am soon off to Randolph ES for the weekly Food Pantry distribution. Today I am a foot soldier in the war effort against Covid-19. Tomorrow I am back outside in the the modern day version of a Victory Garden.

Real Life HGTV

This afternoon as my daughter and I picked up Jay Jay and Greta for their bonus walk, I finally got a closer glimpse of the day’s buzz across the street. Open boxes have been going in; taped shut boxes coming out. One person urgently packing, another doing final sweeps of closets and drawers. The Stager has been there too, mating lamps and chairs with paintings that pop. It no longer looks like my friend’s cozy house. Rather, an HGTV design rendering come to life.

The toll this is taking on my friend keeps my sadness at bay. She needs this to be done. This months-long process of winnowing down, culling and sorting, keeping and passing along, deciding and choosing. It’s almost too much for her. For them. Good thing the sisterly reinforcements arrived today. Like Mary Poppins, they dropped from the sky and went right to work, somehow knowing just what was needed, and where. They only have one more day left before the listing goes up.

Meanwhile another neighborhood friend of mine, heretofore a renter around the corner, has been eyeing the “Coming Soon” sign and yeah... I’ve already drawn her a quick floor plan and given a rundown of all the virtues of this cute but quirky gem. There will be two other small houses in this neighborhood also going up this weekend, so my buying friend hopes to see my selling friend’s place by the end of tomorrow, which I think I can arrange. Even though I probably shouldn’t be involved. I really shouldn’t. But wouldn’t it be great to have friend across the street again?!

Blogging for the Win

Yes!! I wrote for all thirty-one days in March as part of the Slice-of-Life annual writing challenge. This was the first year I participated, and now I’m not sure if I can stop. Certainly not while we are still sequestered at home for two more months.

Thanks to all my readers and commenters, including one I didn’t even know who - I’m assuming - was assigned to me as a newbie because of her longtime involvement in TwoTeachersWriting.org. Big thanks to my colleague, Tracey Shepardson, who encouraged me to try this and helped set me up on Blogger.com. Tracey has been blogging daily for about eleven years now.

I’m keeping this short so I can set up some Cat TV for Bella and Izzy, and mail a couple of jigsaw puzzles to a friend in the Costa Rican jungle who is desperately in need of ways to weather this pandemic. Maybe I’ll find a good book to slip into the box, too.