dawn clouds framing trees
parmesan zucchini, please
(sunlit expertise)
a hike can’t save us.
the heat seems to want us dead.
but the masks? yes. yes.
all the Boulderites.
they get it. even on trails.
why is it so hard?
you could have this view.
away from the pandemic.
if you’d just listen.
a lazy lake day
calmer than a quarantine
peace (so far from peace).
there is no escape here.
only evasion.
it’s up this curvy road packed with hill after horse-country hill,
packed with perfect fences and horses whipping their tails,
with cars zooming past, some honking at my hugging-the-shoulder presence as i pedal
pedal
pedal
past these race-won mansions,
these stacked-limestone walls that can’t trap me in or out,
into the sunny, humid heat of midday Kentucky,
so far from home, so far from home,
so near to everything that is hard and easy, up and down these endless hills
in a circle that isn’t a circle.
victory garden:
popping peonies, pea blooms,
pretty potatoes
our first tomato,
reliable zucchini,
even cilantro
let’s toast us with food
as perfect as irises
that we grew ourselves
the perfect respite
after seventy-one days
staying safe at home
mental sanity
in our short time here on earth
can be life-saving
hiking these mountains
with their divine mental cleanse
has saved us today
away from the crowds
away from constant worry
here. here we are safe.
paranoia wins
my midday motherhood run
(let’s hope she’s healthy)
for now, let us plant.
petunias, lupine, sweet blooms
springing for summer
I went to the grocery store today, and I don’t want to write about the nightmare I had last night where no one was wearing a mask.
Could you imagine, three months ago, having a nightmare about people not wearing masks in Target?
Actually, King Soopers was well-stocked today. Everyone I saw had a mask on. People at 8:30am obeyed the one-way aisle rules, and best of all? I stayed within my budget.
I made a budget for my post-work husband, starting at the beginning of May. $200 a week. It may sound extraordinarily excessive, but we’ve got six mouths to feed, and these are American prices, after all.
But I bought extras today. This bugleweed. A roll of packaging tape. And sushi because fuck Wednesday cooking.
And, my nightmares should end soon.
Because my post-work husband got a job, a non-union, non-seniority-screws-you job, doing exactly what he’s great at and wants to do forever, in the midst of a pandemic.
And.
And you can call it what you want. White privilege. True. Luck. Absolutely. Divine intervention. Maybe.
Or just… fate. The fate that led him through the Air Force to me, that led the boy to our doorstep, that led three beautiful daughters into our home, that led his previous experience to him becoming the best candidate out of all the others being laid off.
Coronatine, day sixty-one. It’s a beautiful image filled with pets, hope, and love.
And I want to hold on to this non-nightmare feeling for as long as I can.
And.
This cat was born to be a model. Good night.
like a pregnant mom
i wait for this peony
(bring blossoms, bring hope)
the first bloom beckons
all that is good on this Earth
(even the ants know)
and from this soil
from blustery spring breezes
good news can blossom
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