At the time of writing we have no idea about the Covid-19 virus and how it will affect everyone's and the earth's future.
Already it has altered nearly all of our lives.
Because of age and health issues we have self-isolated, but for how long? What one can say is that for many people life has worsened a lot. We consider ourselves to be among the lucky ones.
With our 8 pm Thursday recognition of all those fighting for other people's lives, we have not only clapped hands and rung bells, but have met at our door, in a deserted street, and keeping our distance, new friends from the vicinity and exchanged ideas and gossip with neighbours.
Entrance to these open formations is simply to arrive with a glass and a bottle - that is, if you are allowed out.
Our house is not as clean as before because our once-a-week cleaner also has had to self-isolate, but the garden, where we weed, trim and exercise, is as smart as it has ever been.
One imagined that there would be less lawlessness in the present circumstances, but a disguised bottle of Champagne, left on our doorstep for half an hour as thanks for the kind lady who delivered our newspaper, was stolen. It seemed to be an inappropriate misdemeanour in these times of extra friendliness and consideration.
Some modest stores, kept by us for a possible far off emergency, now remain untouched as, because of our priority we have been given a supermarket delivery slot. The "alternatives", supplied because of shortage, have only added to our interest and imagination.
If it really ever comes to the pinch, dried sausages (pemmican) that have hung in the kitchen for some 30 years as real emergency rations, will be consumed as last resort nourishment.
Garden colour, in the form of emerging roses and pelargoniums, brighten the landscape seen from our octagonal glazed shed, but the usually bought seedlings of Busy Lizzies and New Guineas will be missing from it this year.
For some reason there has been a shortage of bird life in the garden this spring, but there are plenty of cantankerous goldfinches and large wood pigeons clinging like trapeze artists to bird feeders to amuse us. They have become garden mobiles.
Already it has altered nearly all of our lives.
Because of age and health issues we have self-isolated, but for how long? What one can say is that for many people life has worsened a lot. We consider ourselves to be among the lucky ones.
With our 8 pm Thursday recognition of all those fighting for other people's lives, we have not only clapped hands and rung bells, but have met at our door, in a deserted street, and keeping our distance, new friends from the vicinity and exchanged ideas and gossip with neighbours.
Entrance to these open formations is simply to arrive with a glass and a bottle - that is, if you are allowed out.
Our house is not as clean as before because our once-a-week cleaner also has had to self-isolate, but the garden, where we weed, trim and exercise, is as smart as it has ever been.
One imagined that there would be less lawlessness in the present circumstances, but a disguised bottle of Champagne, left on our doorstep for half an hour as thanks for the kind lady who delivered our newspaper, was stolen. It seemed to be an inappropriate misdemeanour in these times of extra friendliness and consideration.
Some modest stores, kept by us for a possible far off emergency, now remain untouched as, because of our priority we have been given a supermarket delivery slot. The "alternatives", supplied because of shortage, have only added to our interest and imagination.
If it really ever comes to the pinch, dried sausages (pemmican) that have hung in the kitchen for some 30 years as real emergency rations, will be consumed as last resort nourishment.
Garden colour, in the form of emerging roses and pelargoniums, brighten the landscape seen from our octagonal glazed shed, but the usually bought seedlings of Busy Lizzies and New Guineas will be missing from it this year.
For some reason there has been a shortage of bird life in the garden this spring, but there are plenty of cantankerous goldfinches and large wood pigeons clinging like trapeze artists to bird feeders to amuse us. They have become garden mobiles.
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