Sept 6, 2020 - Sunday Statement

Thinking of these past six months, of 2020 in general. 

I'm not able to concentrate, my attention is as scattered as spilled rice; I'm as jumpy as a cat on  a hot tin roof. If it's not the specter of COVID-19, its the wildfires and the acres and acres of smoke that lid the sky, or the extreme heat that keeps us behind windows and doors. It's the wobbly state of our Democracy; it's the sense that danger lurks everywhere, seen or unseen. And yet the tomatoes ripen, the sunflowers burst open in praise of the sun, the little birds bathe in the water dishes with abandon and pleasure. 

Perhaps  this discordance is the hardest to bear.