Day 161: Enjoying Beauty

Shelter in Place, San Francisco, August 28, 2020

Never has the Black Eyed Susan Vine (Thunbergia alata) seemed more cheerful than it did yesterday as I lumbered down the stairs into the garden. This is the vine’s favorite time of year as it sneaks merrily into every open space and winds itself around nearby branch and vine. I see it twisting around the last of the yellow roses and mingling with the white and more substantial potato vine. For now I’ll let the Black Eyed Susan go. In a few months the blooms will begin to wither, giving me permission to disentangle its tentacles and cut the whole thing back nearly to the roots so it can begin to climb again next spring. The Sisyphus of flowers.

Enjoying the optimistic orange blossoms seemed almost irresponsible after the terrible week this country has had, but it gave me enormous pleasure and momentary relief. How are we to endure a madman preening to his cult; yet another black man gunned down while a white kid with a rifle is ignored until it is too late; 1.7 million acres (2600 sq. miles) burned in California; a devastating hurricane and, oh yes, people dying in the shadows? Still. A thousand nameless Americans died of the virus yesterday while Washington was awash with over-the-top fireworks and self-congratulation. How is one to cope?

I am torn these days about whether to pay close attention to the disintegration of integrity and civility in my country or whether to turn away. Is enjoying to beauty an escape or an embrace? Cowardly or courageous? I feel I should bear witness to every outrageous act and speech, yet they depress me and emphasize my helplessness to protect my country from itself. Somehow I have to find the sweet spot where I do whatever I can from where I sit - real action, if that is even possible - while still taking a moment to relish the small things that make life beautiful. There must be a way to do both. After all, the Black Eyed Susans still have a few months of color, hope, and growth left in them. And so - if we remember to look for it - do we all.

Day 159: Whichever Way the Wind Blows

Shelter in Place, San Francisco, August 26, 2020

The spiders have had free reign in the garden since I was first sidelined by surgery and, more recently, kept indoors by the acrid smoke from distant fires. Left alone, they’ve stretched their webs across the paths and encircled vines and fountain. This afternoon, the wind switched course, blowing cool, clean ocean air down the hill and around our yard, and I got a few minutes to watch this little fellow who, like me, was holding his own against the gusts and enjoying the fresh air. We are all clinging to thin threads of hope these days, trying to hang on, whichever way the wind blows.

Day 158: One of the Lucky Ones

Shelter in Place, San Francisco, California, August 25, 2020

I don’t know the name of this succulent, but it fills the pot on our deck like a strange sea creature searching for every inch of space across a coral reef. This usually cheerful plant seems cleverly designed to capture even the slightest bit of moisture in the air, but that intricate structure makes it susceptible to the ash now falling from the sky. The fallout has begun. In the past hour the wind has shifted, darkening the city and making the air too acrid to venture out. My garden is now beyond my reach, which makes me sad and a little more depressed than when I woke up this morning restless, and dreading the headlines yet to come. And yet. And yet, looking out the window I remind myself that I’m one of the lucky ones.