Jaci Dawn

Anxiety.

I sit in my lawn chair, staring ahead at the “island”. It’s an ovate shape in our yard, a slight mound, where the peonies that came with the house are planted, as well as the other flowers I have added over the years, and the dwarf Hawthorne resides. There is a concrete birdbath, a shepherd’s hook holding a wire grate with sunflower seeds and dried mealworms, two more shepherd’s hooks with windchimes. The Camellia tree (or is i a bush?) lies beyond, the pink blossoms going mushy brown and scattering on the ground, and last year’s leaves turning yellow and sickly, New leaves are pushing outward, but the Camellia looks raggedy. A small green stepladder is off to the right: a board has been screwed to the top and peanuts are placed there as daily offerings to the neighborhood corvids (scrub jay and American crows).

I want the colors to sink into my brain, to leave an imprint I will never forget. I can smell lilacs on the air and apple blossoms. The curry plant (not the same as the herb sold in stores, but the aroma is very much the same), the Spanish lavender, and the wild branched of the rosemary, waft their scents into the air. The oregano has not grown back yet, but the grey-green furry leaves are poking out of the ground. My yellow-and-red tulips have faded; the purple tulips dance gently in the breeze. Blue-and-white blossoms cover the lithodora and small bumblebees buzz excitedly over the blossoms. The peonies are all getting ready to bloom, their leafy plumage ranging from deep red to brilliant green – I am always amazed at the variety of color in the foliage of peonies.

I am not okay. I am stressed. Anxious. Sad.

Twice this week, I have seen a meme purporting that there is already a vaccine for coronavirus. It has been posted by people I know and love who are tired of being in “lockdown”. The attached photo is of a vaccine for canine coronavirus. A click of the mouse and I am looking on a search engine. The only sites that come up are veterinary health sites. The vaccine is real. Dogs get *a* coronavirus. It is an intestinal disease specific to the canines. It does not affect other animals or humans. It is *not* the same as novel (new) coronavirus, which is an upper respiratory disease, affects multiple species (so far, cats ,humans, dogs, and possibly bats) and is SARS-CoV-2 virus.

It’s right there, in plain sight: this is NOT a vaccine for the disease and virus we are fighting.

I have been journaling. That’s not new: I’ve journaled since I was thirteen, more or less. I have a box in the attic full of old journals (I think I burned everything prior to 1980). I can tell you about weather patterns throughout my forty year marriage because I recorded those events as they happened. I know all about mild winters, cold winters, harsh winters, mild summers, rainy summers, and dry summers. I wrote it down. I can go back and look up the patterns, the times we planted gardens, when our children took their first steps.

Now I am writing about a novel virus that is changing our world and I still see people in denial of it’s ability to ravage the human (and cat/dog) body. People who are certain this is a Republican/Democrat war for the office of the President of the United States, regardless of the facts that it has ravaged nearly the entire civilized world. It has killed more people in the USA in three months than died during the 2018-2019 influenza season. It has killed more people in the USA than died in the 30 years we were fighting in Viet Nam.

Those numbers are fluid, but probably within a couple thousand either way. And either way, my statements above are true.

Those numbers do not include the numbers of survivors who will have permanent kidney, liver, or lung damage.

Where I live, the effects of the virus are minimal. We’ve had a total of 7 deaths in a large county, with just over a couple hundred infected.No one knows the true number of infected persons because you can’t get tested unless you are on death’s door or an “essential” employee. And if you do get tested, it will be two weeks before you get the results.

COVID-19 often kills within 10 days.

I am not okay. I am stressed. Anxious. I internalize everything because I am an introvert and HSP. I can’t imagine how my extrovert friends are holding out (the ones who believe). The ones who don’t believe – well, how they are coping is all over social media. It’s not good.

A bright blue and grey bird flashes into my peripheral vision. The scrub jay, come to take a peanut and hide it. He is followed by a black shadow – one of our crows has noticed the feeding table. A large bumblebee buzzes over the top of the lithodora. The hues of green burn into the back of my mind.

I am not okay, but life goes on. Breathe in. Breathe out. Listen. Absorb. Smell. Sense. Straight spine, feet planted firmly on warm green grass that tickles.. I know there are messages on my phone from one or the other of my granddaughters. I am loved and I love.

Thursday, we will buy new Venetian blinds for our dining/living rooms. We’re continuing to plant metaphorical trees despite the uncertainty of tomorrow.

Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree. ~ Martin Luther