My dearest teaching widower (DTW) and I have COVID. When all this mess started, I wondered why folks were so hysterical about toilet paper and paper towels. Well, we have all learned a lot about supply chains and quarantine and masks. Now my DTW and I are in the Big Boy leagues. ISOLATION. Ooh!
I feel like I have a sinus infection: achy, tired, and sluggish. I’d had the first dose of the Pfizer vaccine a couple of weeks ago, which must have helped. My DTW, on the other hand, has cancer and heart disease. To make things more interesting, he had the virus but didn’t know it. So the next day, he also got the vaccine. Now he’s had a double dose of this crud. Yikes!
My DTW is taking ALL these supplements. My system doesn’t tolerate them well, so I’m sticking with C and oil of oregano. He has lost his sense of taste, which is awful, but is still as patient and uncomplaining as ever. Me? Not so much. But neither of us has had a fever, Small victories, right?
For a couple who had only known one person with this bug prior to Monday, we have jumped into the fray rather quickly. If I hadn’t had cataract surgery scheduled for this week, I wouldn’t have known I had the virus. I was shocked to get the results, but then my DTW’s coughing made a lot of sense. Hopefully we have some decent immunity after this, plus I am considering customized tee shirts. Well, maybe not. As everyone now says, “Stay safe!”
The kiddos and I savored every moment of The Mandalorian. Of course, our favorite character was The Child. I don’t want to hear that he dies in some silly Star Wars movie. Surely you don’t believe everything in movies is real? We KNOW the child is safe. See? He was tucked away.
Not only that, he objects to the silly name of Grogu. What is Grogu supposed to mean? He knows who he is and we know he’s baby Yoda.
We voted long before November 3, standing in line for over 1.5 hours. The line stretched as far behind us as it did in front. I appreciated the friendliness and patience of all the folks around us. Poll workers were efficient with everything except exit signs, so I wandered just a bit before finding the right door. Well, duh. I seemed to be the only one who was confused!
Halloween wasn’t THAT long ago, but since we’ve had such an election? Oy! It’s hard to remember anything from October. The kiddos had fun trick-or-treating in relative isolation, selecting goodies from tables, bins, and cute clotheslines. Neighbors applauded from a safe distance.
My grandfather, a coal miner from Yorkshire, used to sing this song to my sister and me:
Daisy, Daisy, Give me your answer, do.I’m half crazy all for the love of you. It won’t be a stylish marriage, ’cause I can’t afford a carriage. But you’ll look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two!
My young brain was imprinted on daisies and they have long been one of my favorite wildflowers. BUT perhaps what I loved was not a daisy! Horrors! As I have roamed the neighborhood, I’ve snapped these photos of delightful ‘daisies.’ My PictureThis app has corrected all my misconceptions. Kind of.
I still think the purple coneflower should be called a white cone flower. And whether or not they’re daisies, I love ’em all!
As much as I loved spring, with its vibrant flowers and fragrances, the beginning of summer is great for flowering weeds, not so great for long walks. We’re talking about major sweating here- and the temps are still moderate for this time of year. I guess 6-foot distancing is best since I look like I have a dripping fever.
The weed below is a Carolina horse nettle. My dearest teaching widower would be proud that I didn’t touch it!
Magnolia trees are not weeds, but since I DO grab sniff all the lowest blossoms, I must include this gorgeous one. The flowers of this ancient plant do not have true petals. In fact, this early flowering giant has been around for 36+ million years! I guess the above blossom may be a fossil in the making. I do love to see the stamen, lying there like candy matchsticks. Truly delish!
You know how incensed I get when the local deer rip out my plants? And how I yell and bark at them to no avail? Well, I take all that back every year around this time, when our hill becomes a fawn parking lot.
We do have a set of twins up there but it’s the only child, Fawnville, who entertains us daily. Fawnville started off wobbly and uncertain, but he’s now into dizzying sprints. His mom has to trail after him; keeping him out of mischief is a full time job. She already looks weary, kind of like other parents in quarantine. I keep reminding her that this, too, shall pass. In the meantime, I am silent as they rip out the remaining periwinkles.