I was exchanging messages with a friend who expressed relief that, unlike last fall, he was now able to return to the office for several days a week. Last year, he explained, he found it too depressing to stay home all day and finish work in the dark. I agreed with him because I understood what he was saying in theory, but if given the choice (which I have been fortunate enough to be given), I would still opt at this juncture to work from home, even or especially as the daylight hours wane. I ask myself the following questions: What is happening in the city? And do I need to see it? Maybe, I think, but then again, maybe later, after we’ve removed approximately 500,000 cars and dirt bikes from the streets.
Stephen has returned to his job, which means that, most days, it’s me and the cats. We all have our routines but we meet up when we take breaks. Everyone likes to walk through the garden, even though it often feels a bit dreary and forgotten at this time of year, like the morning after a big party. But this fall, the garden has more color than it has in the past, thanks in part to a cold-hardy foxglove with sunburst flowers (pictured above) that Stephen discovered at one of the non-corporate nurseries we like to buy from. After lunch, the cats like to sit on the deck next to the catnip. Like me, they seem exhausted by the thought of everything that’s happening and not happening in the outside world.
The catnip was another successful experiment this year. I have childhood memories of seeing cats go a little berserk on catnip, but it didn’t have such a strong effect on our cats. They seemed to enjoy rubbing against it or taking small bites, but it didn’t change anyone’s personality. It just seemed to relax them. Watching them, I wondered: is there catnip for people 🙂
For the rest of the day, everyone returned to work, which for the cats means sleeping, or thinking about sleeping.
I’ve been trying to limit my intake of daily news, which along with my non-commute has given me more time to spend listening to and playing music. I’ve been working on my acoustic-guitar skills. I learned on an acoustic guitar but after mastering the basics never spent too much time with it. Lately I’ve been teaching myself how to flatpick, which I’ve discovered is a good lockdown activity for me. It’s nice to switch between two or three open chords as you pick out a base line with your thumb (I prefer not to use a pick) and strum the rest of the strings with your fingers. Time evaporates in the most pleasant way. I’ve been using a downstroke with the backs of my fingers but have recently learned that a true ‘Carter scratch’ (made famous by Maybelle Carter) uses only the index finger, which makes and an up-and-down ‘scratch.’ I’m excited to tackle this technique next. I recorded a song showcasing my new skills, which ended up sounding (to my ear anyway) a little bit like the Meat Puppets.
Link.
The big news this fall is really the hardy begonia. After having some luck with one that a friend of ours gave to us a few years ago, we’ve added many more. These plants are the proverbial late bloomers. They don’t even come out of the ground until June, but now they’ve hit their stride, with big, paddle-shaped leaves (with scary red veins — perfect for Halloween!) and flowers that come in white and pink. They also have beautiful/creepy shark-fin seed pods, which again would make an excellent Halloween costume for anyone who partakes. “What are you supposed to be?” “You couldn’t tell? Wtf. I’m a hardy begonia seed pod.” “Oh, right — scary!”
Our grape vine, which is supporting this hardy begonia, is now over twenty years old, which I guess means that I’m over twenty years old, too 🙁
Overall, I recommend the hardy begonia for the autumn garden because it looks like a MONSTER. (But a friendly monster.)
The autumn sun is mostly blocked by the neighboring buildings, but it breaks through for a few minutes every afternoon.
Feeling nostalgic, I took a picture and pretended it was 2009, when I was in love with the internet.
In 2021, the light always makes me think we have another chance, but almost as soon as the thought appears, the light is gone.
