I wrote a long blog post earlier this morning filled with too many words about my own opinions involving emotions and the human nervous system.
Now it feels like there’s no life or ooomph or immediacy in that post, so let’s Take Two.
What’s true in the now of our little house in the woods?
Birds chirping off the deck right now. A couple of days ago a baby robin burst upwards in flight from the nest. What a riotous cackling ensued! Baby robin didn’t know what to do once he perched atop a branch. Mama flew clucking around him and eventually fed him a worm to keep his energy up and cheer him on. I might have stayed and watched yonder robin drama, but instead the dishes–or something equally important–called me inside.
We caught a mouse in the basement overnight. We buy superior traps. We love ’em so much after years of feeble wood traps. Tomcat Press ‘n Set. Snap! Mouse gone. I cannot look in their surprised dead eyes, at their sweet dead faces. I love mice. Just not in our house. I might take a picture of our perished companion, but–no.
The daisies are waving their beingness everywhere, sticking their yellow tongues out at the dying lupines. (Oh my what a suggestion! I am 100% sure that the daisies and lupines hold no grudges. That seems a more human thing to do, don’t you think?)
On a sad human note, one of our good friends has been exposed to the coronavirus. Even though she did everything possible to avoid it…a beloved relative brought it home after being exposed. Probably a relative who deemed it safe to be partying and fishing and carrying on because of youth and conviction that it wouldn’t happen to him. (I am telling another story in this head, similar to the story of daisies and lupines. Who knows the truth of another human being? We can only tell half-true stories from our own flawed perspectives. Please forgive me, dear relative, for making up your truth. Please do not hold a grudge if you find yourself on this blog.)
Now our friend waits with bated breath for two, three weeks to see if a) family member gets sick or b) she herself succumbs to the virus. Or if someone becomes asymptomatic. In which case no one will know if the virus is floating around unless twenty people all take the test, and will that even be done?
Our small community had three asymptomatic employees test positive at our local nursing home. Before this week we’ve experienced exactly one case. The Upper Peninsula features 151 positive cases since March as of yesterday, many of whom have recovered. Numbers are a’rising even in our remote rural setting, perhaps especially as tourists flock north to the woods. Now the community waits on edge to see if a) other employees have it or b) nursing home patients get sick or c) relatives and friends of said positive-testing folks succumb.
My heart beat so fast with concern Friday night upon hearing of our friend and her family.
Within an hour the Universe decided to send more excitement our way. I could hear a siren ‘way down on Skanee Road for about five minutes. It approached closer and closer. Then it was zooming down our gravel road. A dust storm to rival the Sahara dust storm ensued. Fire truck or ambulance? Impossible to tell in all that dust.
Then zoomed by police and sheriff cars and curious onlookers. I scurried outside toward the mailbox in my pajamas but choked so awfully on dust that ventured back to the house.
Even though I talked with my neighbor the next day–no one seems to know what happened. Fire? Heart attack? Stroke? It’s a mystery. Just another opportunity to sit not knowing much of anything.
It seems like a pattern these days: just continuing on without really knowing WHAT is up. Just living in uncertainty, one day at a time.
What’s new in your neck of the woods?