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 Two Hundred

We in the Lost Quarter have been blessed with a wondrous autumn, which we are so rarely granted. This past week has seen temperatures in the low twenties, the sun bright and the sky clear, with only the slightest of breezes to disturb the falling leaves. Many still cling to their branches, a pure gold in colour.

My love and I spent the last week at ease, away from our work, a last respite before winter. We headed west into the mountains to spend a few nights at a chalet. There we lounged about reading and looking out upon the mountain scenery, only stirring from our chairs to venture into the hot tub.

Before we journeyed west I picked all my tomatoes, a bountiful harvest. Most were still green, but they will ripen soon enough and then I shall have more on my hands than I know what to do with. There will salsa and tomato sauce. I also harvested some of my herbs – rosemary, parsley, thyme and oregano – cutting and tying them in bundles that I suspended in a paper bag to dry.

Soon enough the other herbs, and the tomato plants and peppers (which produced one measly fruit this year) will die off and I will have to deal with their remnants. Already the magpies are picking at the remains of my love’s flowers, searching for bits and pieces to add to their nests for winter. Then the garden will be done for the year and there will only be waiting for spring to come to begin again.

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