SURVEYING THE DAMAGE

IS THIS TOO APOCALYPTIC?

(Work by Alan Magee, Dowling-Walsh Gallery, Rockland, ME)

I took this photograph in the summer of 2019.  Now it looks prophetic, like a contagion metaphor. Look closely: the box holding the skull on the left suggests Asia, the one on the right, the West, skulls at a social distance, the oval the earth or maybe the egg, the wandering line...well, you can imagine.

But here we are.

Dark days, huh?

What with Trump turning the country upside down since 2016, a plague in 2020…What else can happen?  Locusts?  Asteroid?

The other day while I was getting my gym bag ready my thoughts ran like this:  the gym I go to in Vergennes, just four miles away, is an offshoot of the busier and larger one in Middlebury so it’s almost always quiet, maybe three people there at one time, sometimes I’m the only one, and by habit I put one of their towels between me and whatever I’m leaning on, and I take a shower afterwards.  The bag sat there, looking up at me. But then I didn’t go.

A couple of days later it was a beautiful day so I drove to downtown Middlebury and walked the dog around the college campus. The only people I saw were a couple of workmen and three other dog walkers.  I stopped at Agway to buy dog food and birdseed.  I went into a store: almost exciting.

Middlebury campus looks lovely: All that's lacking is students.

I planned to go to the local grocery store the next day. Not that I really had to, but I thought it would be convenient to stock up a bit more.  Figured I’d wear gloves.  That morning I thought about it some more, and decided not to go. I’d order instead.  Then I found that half the locals are doing the same thing and I’d have to wait five days to pick up my order.

The day after that I gave up. I ordered a jigsaw puzzle on-line for when I really get desperate.  You know, a rainy day.  Or maybe any old day.

I could sleep until it’s over. Hibernate, like a bear.  

Skyler sacked out. And presumably tuned out. I can't tune out.

 Things do heal though.  In time.  They will recover.  The grass will grow again.  

Take, for example, the physical damage created by small creatures and winter itself.  I always survey the damage when the snow is gone, exposing the grass.  With the snow blanket removed, the grass tells many tales.  Busy, busy mice.  There is more damage than in previous years. Either there were more mice and other small animals this winter or they were on a building spree. 

An entensive network of mouse trails (more than likely) on a day the big pond was still frozen

A closer view from yet another, smaller, network

Vole holes. They're a bit bigger (see tip of my foot at top, for size), and they move more dirt. 

The pond needs looking after (getting at that algae before it gets me), but it’s too soon; the ice lingers after cold nights and even when it melts in the sun the water is still too cold. Besides, the pump isn’t back in yet.  But soon.

And then there is the tiresome chore of putting the driveway back onto the driveway.  My plow guy inevitably pushes off the gravel, laced with a soupçon of sod, when he shoves the snow to the side.  I suppose that’s unavoidable.  Gravel is a nuisance, but without I’d be in mud.  It's not really a choice.

Gravel where it's not supposed to be.  (Dull photo, but it's proof.)

April will come.  Spring is arriving (technically speaking at least).  There will be lots of outdoor work for me to do.  I wouldn’t call it gardening though, more like, um, outdoor work.  

Chris heading back to the sugarhouse. The sap runs as it always does.

And the grass will grow, and the flowers will bloom.  Soon.

Even now an osprey that flew by my window is sitting on a branch, not far from the sugar house, waiting for some slight movement, one of those mice, maybe, no longer protected by its roof of snow.  I’m watching him with Ken’s super binoculars.  I can see his feathers ruffling in the breeze.

What apocalypse?