Losing count
It’s now Day… who am I trying to kid? I have lost count, and now am resolved to knowing that this is Year 2020. Or maybe Year One. We don’t know how this is going to play out, as the sands shift beneath us. I no longer have a need to wander beyond the edge of the property. Someone else goes foraging for supplies, and if we get mail, that’s an added bonus at the end of the afternoon.
The disease count continues to rise. Locally, we’ve gone with what seems to be the start of a Fibonacci series. At the international border, troops have begun to take up sentry duty; first time in my lifetime. I guess we’re entering a whole new chapter in this story. The local ferry service is going to stop, this weekend. Not due to anything “natural”; the associated governments have decided to curtail visits between our two islands. At the local market, you now pass through security, as even the stores are intent on preventing strangers from forays into the supply chain.
Outside, the snow is falling. Even there, we had hoped for an end to winter, weeks ago. The big tractor still clears the lane, although the car rarely leaves the shadow of the “Har-vee”. As if the machines also sought the security of their own kind.
There seem to be more dogs wandering, although I do recognize most of them, and nod with familiarity. So no wild dogs, yet. I guess their food bowls are still being filled. I thought I had spotted a seal, offshore, but it couldn’t have been that. The ice is something that comes and goes, with the tides. A soft winter.
