This year is surreal, and infuriating in so many ways. Death and illness and cruelty abound, and I'm grasping for a rock to cling to in the storm. I'm grateful to have a wife and a partner, and to have a little space to garden. I'm also grateful for our cats, who live up to their role as emotional support animals, even while they've been unwell.
Kate and I work almost every day on the mandala, and we take daily walks down our suburbish rural road for exercise. I cook and take care of the household while Caera goes to work at the crisis center. I still help with landscape maintenance at a Bellevue account a few times a month. Telehealth therapy every week. I continue to meet virtually with Camp Quest NorthWest, Stronger Together, and Rooted NW, though I don't feel I've contributed much to any of these groups in my current mental state.
Is this the best use of my time in quarantine? Who's to say? I'm tired, and doing what I can to stay engaged. I've let parts of the garden do their own thing while I've focused on construction and hand-watering the plants every day.
The tomatoes have become a monstrous mass without pruning or staking, and I've let it go. However, I've got hope for our short corn stalks after we attempted to increase pollination by hand. The squash section is doing well, and the sunflowers keep getting taller. I'm amused at how the marigolds have become a trellis for the cucumbers, which was completely unexpected. I like it so much that I'm tempted to replicate it in the future. I also harvested some potatoes recently and made hashbrowns. That's the best I can do for now.
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