Shelter in Place, San Francisco, California
As predicted, the Angel Trumpets that I celebrated here just a few days ago have already started their decline, though it’s been a bumper crop. This picture was taken late afternoon yesterday; by this morning, several of these very same flowers are on the verge of old and soggy. Their neighbors, meanwhile - the agapanthus (below) and the hydrangea (behind) - are moving through their cycles at a more measured pace. You can just see the long agapanthus stems beginning to emerge. Soon enough, they’ll rise above the mother plant and open for a month-long spray - blue fireworks above the green. Meanwhile, the hydrangea’s emergence has been glacial by comparison, teasing us for weeks: leaves appeared in March, filled out in April, the buds in early May. And now, one, just one half-opened crown hints at the glowing mound of rich, deep hydrangea pink we’ll see in the center of our garden some weeks hence. It’s just a matter of time.
Last night over virtual cocktails, John and my brother-in-law agreed that they can imagine themselves here in this suspended state for at least another year if that’s how long it takes. It’s better than the alternative, they say, and they’re content to wait. On most days I can get there, too. The garden helps. Without it, time would seem to stop completely. As it is, and as I’ve said before, the days go by with little fuss and are nearly indistinguishable. However long the “duration” continues, we are lucky to be here.
But it’s not just us retirees who are beginning to think about our confinement as being longer term. Son Hans has learned that the New York Times will not call their employees back to the city until at least September; son Jesse is waiting to hear if his classroom will or won’t be virtual in the fall; a friend’s tech company has just decided to keep its offices closed until January; and, it is reported today, FaceBook intends to make at least half its workforce virtual permanently. Half! Permanently! How will all this change the nation’s landscape over the months and years to come as others follow suit? What ripple effects do such changes imply? The list is long, starting with empty office buildings, laid-off maintenance and cleaning workers, idle lunch spots and food trucks, and ending with mass migration of the wealthy working class from cities like ours… Obviously, there are plenty of folks (I hope) already thinking through the cascade of social and economic consequences this new virtual reality will wreak. Those of us confined to the sidelines (and our gardens) will have to wait and see.