Notes on the Grippe

Being an accounting of the recent and continuing pandemic and its various circumstances, from the perspective of an inhabitant of the regions lately called the Lost Quarter. Dates unknown.

Day Eighty Eight

A sunny, hot day, the first truly hot one of the year. In the morning I transplanted tomatoes, peppers and herbs under the glare of the sun. I was soon sweating, though the work wasn’t hard at all. Everything in the garden is growing by leaps and bounds now that the weather is warm, the nights not getting particularly cool. I can see the difference day by day, which is satisfying indeed. Soon there will be spinach and chard to eat.

In the afternoon my love and I went out to sit upon a patio for beers and lunch, the first time we have ventured out since the relaxation of the protocols began. It felt almost normal, despite the servers wearing masks and the fact customers were scattered and spread across the patio. I had not realized just how much I missed sitting out, eating and drinking, and watching people as they go by.

Later I felt mournful, for how long will it be until we can just go out and sit upon a patio and enjoy some beer on the spur of the moment, giving no consideration to the risks from the dread lord and all that entails. A good long while I fear, that is why today was such a joy.

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