Two More Cords of Wood Arrive Today

Yesterday morning’s walk was the warmest yet this year. Sheba and I went out at nine-thirty and it was already ten degrees. Birds were chirping, bees were interested in landing on my head, fir pollen coated the smooth surfaces of broad leaves (cough, sneeze) and Sheba was full of spunk, running ahead and jumping in a state of absolute glee.

I went grocery shopping and every time I go, I feel better. This time, I felt good because they are allowing fewer people into the store—they even stop couples, asking one of each couple to wait in the car. Plus, I found a bag of disposable gloves in my studio and they give me a greater sense of security when I’m in the store. 

I tidied up my shed and got it ready for my next two cords of wood, and I chopped some more kindling. That was the extent of my labour for the day; I just wasted my day, and that was just fine. But I’m getting restless. I’m actually feeling keen to do more wood toting and stacking and then to get busy in the gardens.

For fun, my new favourite thing is to look for books to get on Amazon. I chose four more yesterday. And as I search, my reading journey constantly amazes me. Something subconscious drives my choices—in big ways and small ways. A big way was when I suddenly switched from exclusively non-fiction (with particular foci on science, natural and cultural histories and medicine) to exclusively fiction including.  

The small ways being from binging on Canadian literary fiction, to Irish fiction, to translations, to everything published by P. D. Jmes to, most recently, Jonathan Franzen. Now, the genre doesn’t matter; I chose by reviews and awards and going from turn of the century Russian, to northern Africa, to LGBTQ. 

There have also been big gaps in my reading history. When I went on a journey of making paper sculptures (my dresses), during my extreme baking years and after my breakdown, when concentration was impossible.

Last night, just before eight, I lured Sheba into accompanying me on a sunset walk to a place about fifteen minutes to walk to from my house. It’s a place where I can see out through the trees, from the top of an escarpment, to the ocean. And last night it was windless and calm. The only sound was a single Raven calling from far away.

It was like being in church to be there is a place of such majesty and quiet and at such a supremely beautiful and powerful time of day. I thought of the sunset ceremony I’d witnessed on the ghats in Veranasi, so incredibly powerful to me. Sunset is a magisterial time of day. What virus?

Sunset walks will now be part of our daily experience.

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There are moments when I wonder how I’m going to deal with three more months of this—like when I first wake up. There are other times when I feel that the social isolation is easy to handle and almost a source of joy—usually at the end of the day when the sun is shining, I’m in the spa and I have various consumables within reach as an option for further indulgence. All that, plus a certain pride and fulfillment in having got through another day and in things done—practical or optional and no matter how modest). 

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Is it me or is it the magazine? I’m finding the New Yorker less and less interesting. It seems more American to me and so it’s far less interesting. I will not renew my subscription when my current one runs out.

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My second two cords of wood arrive today. I’m thrilled to be able to do them in the finest of weather—sunny and warm, but not so warm as to have me sweating off pints of water. I want to get thirteen wheelbarrow loads done today because if I do that many each day, I’ll be done on Thursday.

A Gorgeous Walk

Just as happened on my last walk with Eoin and the Whippets, the sky started to clear as we headed into the forest yesterday morning at nine-thirty. The walk was invigorating and oodles of fun (see photos below); it was a new trail to me. Eoin was our guide; his direction allowed François and I to follow paying attention to all the sights.

By the time I got home, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. And as I drove back from the walk, Ben Hepner was hosting music on the CBC and he played a piece called Drag the Goat by the Silk Road Ensemble, featuring Yo-Yo Ma. Oh my God, I loved it. It’s likely not to everyone’s taste, but for this former traveler who loves rich folk music that evokes memories of places visited, this is divine music. 

Here’s a link.

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When I got home, I decided to see how the Garlic is doing that I planted last Fall. It’s looking spectacular! The shoots are healthy, lush and sturdy; I could not be happier. My crop last year was planted in the Spring and they did not do at all well in our hot dry summer, whereas this crop will be a doozie.

Sheba went to bed when we got home; she’d hardly slept all night because of her diarrhea, and I finished The Alchemist. And then we went to Anna’s to go for an afternoon dog walk in the lovely, soothing and  warm sunshine. This is going to be a great week—warm, bright and sunny. 

In the evening, I watched Call the Midwife, World on Fire and the harrowing show called The Windermere Children about the rehabilitation of children freed from concentration camps.

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I’m chuffed even though I’m a snitch. I wrote to the Shubert Organization to report on the pirated version of Dear Evan Hansen on YouTube. It offended my copyright sensibilities that a pair of guys were showing the entire show online and asking for donations from viewers. Well, all their videos are gone! Hooray for that.

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The National Theatre is posting Jane Eyre on YouTube on April 9^th. I’ve subscribed so as not to miss any online shows.

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I’ll enjoy today: It’s gorgeous and will be nice and warm this afternoon. Soon, the next two cords of wood will arrive, and my life will be back to toting and stacking, so chillin’ is the focus of the day today, and maybe some gardening.

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Juliet, a blogger I follow who lives in Paris, wrote to say that infection numbers are dropping in continental Europe. She writes: “Spain deaths [are] lower for the fourth day in a row as Germany sees [a] further case drop.”

The moss! (Above and below.)

Some kind of lovely lichen or fungus.

Petroglyph.

Vertical Expression of Horizontal Intention

I was up a lot last night. Poor Sheba has diarrhea and so I only rested so that I could hear her jump off the bed each time she needed to go out—and she needed to go out often. I’m glad I don’t have to stack wood today after such disrupted sleep.

This morning’s dawned cloudy but it’s predicted to clear this afternoon and we’re expected to get a spectacular week of sunshine and warm afternoon temperatures—great weather for stacking another two cords of wood that will arrive soon.

This morning, I’m meeting Eoin and François and their dogs for another walk. We walk apart, of course, but I value these safe social connections as a single person in quarantine. They are taking me on walks where I have never been before and I love that they’re doing this. It’s exactly what I wanted to so this year.

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Here’s something to make you feel great: It’s a short tango. What is a tango? A vertical expression of horizontal intention. (That quote is from the person posting this delightful little film.) Link.

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Tonight, decent programming returns to PBS: There’s Call the Midwife, then The World on Fire and then The Windermere Children. The programming on PBS has been shite for the past several weeks; it’s great that Sunday nights are interesting again.

A Toke

I skipped walking Sheba yesterday morning and got right to work stacking wood. By ten-thirty, I’d done ten loads—not only that, my back wasn’t killing me, so I know I’m building up my strength and that stacking the remaining four cords won’t be as challenging. 

With ten more loads in the shed, I took Sheba for a walk after a short break to catch my breath. Then lunch, and then I went back to it. I did four more loads, swept up the loose left-over detritus, folded up the huge tarpaulins that were underneath and overtop the woodpile and put all my tools away. I was done! Two cords down, four to go.

I celebrated with a spa and by putting on clean dry clothes in advance of a second dog walk—this time with Anna. And then I came home to watch One Man Two Guvnors, the free National Theatre program and had a tiny bit of Marijuana. Woo hoo: Party!