Good morning, fine folk of the world. It is May the sixth and I believe we are in our sixtieth day of lockdown due to Covid-19. There have been 30,000 deaths in the UK (an inaccurate number, because of lack of testing and monitoring) - the highest in Europe, and nearly 72,000 deaths in the US. Here, in our little corner of Oxfordshire, beauty and horror co-exist. I cannot complain of much hardship where we are. We live in a beautiful, rickety old farmhouse surrounded by fields and ancient woodland, horses and sheep and pheasants. We listen to the owls at night and the peacocks calling to each other during the day. We do all the bourgeois things - buy bread from our excellent local bakery wearing our masks and gloves, online yoga, Zoom drinks with friends. We have our work and our dogs and each other. And yet, there is a hidden spectre, a dark force slipping into everything, unseen, unheard and largely undetected until it's too late. I don't sleep because I'm up at night reading the New York Times. I experience fresh outrage each day at Trump. And I think about my lovely Kundalini guru who told us years ago, when we were swooning and dancing in the era of Obama, and showing mock outrage at things that now seem so ridiculous, that we were going to face a very dark period. I was so irritated when she said this, in the middle of a floaty sat nam meditation with lovely, calming music, surrounded by beautiful yogis in their white dresses, just completely bumming out the mood - I mean we were going to stroll down Sunset Boulevard afterwards to get green juice smoothies... But, here we are, in the midst of a global pandemic that it's hard to get one's head around.
I can only tell you of my experience, and I am, I suppose one of the luckier ones. Stay well, dear people.
Hello Bumble and good morning from a perfect Vancouver Island day. Victoria, BC surely has more varietals of herbaceous plants than anywhere else in the world, or at least, than where I have ever lived. It has the climate and the history. The south of the Island must be a zone 8/9 and historically bountiful, the whiteman brought every carnation etc they missed from home and planted amazing gardens, simply amazing. I am astounded to see stands of stately Elms planted in 1917 along the old brick Lampson Street schoolyard planted in memory of students killed in WWI. The huge Elms of my youth being long gone from Dutch Elm disease in Ottawa where I grew up. And palms grace lawns along side Rhododendrons, withstanding the one or two silly snows that fall in winter. Green and vibrant pinks, reminders of my years living in Bermuda. I am so happy for you and your new home project. It looks an absolute English Garden phantasy...thrilling! I had a pair of English grandparents and that cultural stuff sticks! HP Sauce? Yes pls.
ReplyDeleteYes we are lucky. Survivor guilt will be part of the collective hangover of this deadly spring. So I feel it is my job to be as lighthearted and light of foot as can be...and as much as the science will allow. I just finished reading the New Yorker profile of Dr, Fauci and aside from being a charming guy, it rather scared me. Germ warriors are here forever....the delusional thinking of the 50s and 60s that humans are superior over all, and of course the white ones, over every single entity in The Universe have waylaid us.
I moved here in September to be near my daughter and her growing family and was just beginning to find my way and a few friendly faces when this hit so feel doubly isolated. And a bit lonely. But mustn't grumble as the old folks used to say. Binging episodes of season 3 of The Crown....Prince Philip is coming off rather well, ��
Look forward to more photos of your walled garden charting your progress, best from here, deborah
Ps my 92 yr old Mom recently fell and broke her hip....long story but heartbroken for her, one day at a time, from far away, xx
Hi thanks for postiing this
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