All these buckets of water pouring down today made me think of bucket lists, and how the pandemic has changed that concept for many of us.

In our case, we didn’t have much of a bucket list to begin with, being on a low fixed income.  It consisted of maybe visiting E’s “homeland” once a year, and possibly later on, taking a cross-country road trip to many of the places E has never seen, which is most of the country.  Obviously all that is on indefinite hold.

Whereas I know others’ bucket lists feature all kinds of exotic world destinations and experiences that we can only imagine vicariously via media.  I’m guessing many of those plans are now on hold as well.  I also suspect those are some of the same people who are taking risks seeking more local nonessential venues to fill that empty place during the pandemic.

I guess I was fortunate (or privileged) to have experienced many places and opportunities during my younger years,  never guessing the strange twists life would take.  I made some poor choices, but at least I had my chance to make them.  Some people never even have those options.  Now later in life, I’m starting to experience what limited options looks like.  Options are a privilege and even luxury to much of the world.

But I’m mostly fine with it.  This quarantine has totally readjusted and lowered expectations.  I’m sad that I have no way of knowing when I’ll next see my son and family, if ever.  We worked so long and hard to get here to be near them, only to have life happen.  So it goes.  On the other hand, I’m learning to be content with very simple things, such as that most basic of needs, not being dead yet!  It’s not a far-fetched possibility, especially these days.

That’s why my posts are mostly boring, tedious accounts of gardening and other homely pursuits.  I’m being realistic.  I had my chance to change the world, and didn’t.  So I’m doing the only thing I know to do right now: 1.) keep going, and 2.) try to improve our infinitesimal fraction of the environment while I’m here.  Buckets of rain water the garden, which helps keep me and other critters alive and functional.  That’s more than millions of us in the ‘rona world can say.

Here is a wonderful homegrown sourdough dutch oven bread by E, and a little wren sheltering on the back porch in the rain.

Rain at last–albeit probably due to advance effects of Hurricane Delta, which is slamming the Gulf Coast on top of all the existing damage sustained during the last recent disaster.  I can’t imagine what that’s like during the pandemic, no thanks to our negligent loser-in-chief.  It’s just one more insult added to injuries and hardships too numerous to fathom or condone.  May his teetering Jenga pile of crimes and fails come crashing down on him soon.

Closer to home, it’s [erev-all-those-other-holidays] at the tail end of the Sukkot festival season.  With nature’s help I’m trying to keep it appropriately festive.  It’s gratifying to discover lots of volunteer native seedlings coming up all over the perennial beds, especially passionflower and columbines, not to mention herb seeds that germinated on their own.  California poppies have finally taken over the rock garden.  I think next spring and summer are going to be an explosion of welcome flowering plants.  It’s something to look forward to.

I’m not sure which is more dangerous—a sick toddler who is deranged, incompetent, egotistical, and demented, or a bloodsucker who is calculating, devious, evasive, and unscrupulous.  Both are living in some twisted, distorted alternate reality where science facts are a conspiracy and nobody matters but themselves staying in power.  They make Biden/Harris look like a skilled hostage rescue team.  We’re all being held hostage by these unhinged terrorists in the WH.  The pandemic is like their bio-weapon of mass destruction.  How is it they continue to get away with this?  If there was ever a time to exercise your right to vote, this is it.  Shut them down.

In saner news, here are more brilliant colors and critters of the season.

I’m rectifying my inexcusable deficit of festive harvesty décor with these fine and worthwhile offerings from the garden (and store).  Yes, we braved Kroger once again, and found almost everyone was wearing a mask and distancing.  If only our braindead Pres. and Count Pencula could function even that much.

I’m also including some colorful seasonal scenes around the garden on this almost 80º day in October.

You could say nature built my sukkah this year.  A giant open-air sukkah, fabulously decorated with all the colors of the warm side of the rainbow.  Here are festive flowers, red grasses, blushing holly berries, changing leaves, banana peppers, and the delicate white filaments of bursting butterflyweed seedpods.  I couldn’t have done it better myself.

First {“not” gloating} I’m just surprised it didn’t happen sooner.  It was just a matter of time.  Inactions have consequences.  You know what I’m saying.  Perhaps there’s some poetic justice in the world.  ’nuff said!

And now to more current events.  Happy erev Sukkot, the feast of harvest, to those of us who celebrate–“celebrate” being a relative term right now.  Somehow I just didn’t have the heart to set up a sukkah this year, the first time in a while.  What’s the point?  Even my son can’t visit (except in my dreams each night).  Also, I couldn’t go shopping for appropriate harvesty decorations during the pandemic.  So there you have it.  🙁

Still, I try to create a festive-ish meal and surroundings with what I have to work with.  I wasn’t able to grow or buy pumpkins, squash, gourds, or etc. this year, but there’s always next year.  Or is there?  Time will tell!

This meal includes challah and homemade noodles by E, and a sweet potato/carrot/ fruit tzimmes by Y.T.  Lots of fresh homegrown herbs were involved.  Happily there is no lack of flowers this year.  And we’re still alive, so that’s something.

Today it was another gorgeous, perfect day out, so I began laying down some weed barrier around the trees in the “prairie”.  I think the trees multiply overnight; it really is like a baby forest out there.  Which is all part of my evil plan.

Also today I learned, do not even try to dig and transplant even a small walnut tree.  The taproots are so entrenched, it’s impossible.  I kept trying smaller and smaller saplings until I found a tiny one which surrendered.  It will be the first of a long line of trees along the driveway fence.  If I die trying, at least it was in pursuit of reforesting our tiny parcel of earth.

Here is your daily dose of bugs and their flower hosts.  Also E’s latest challot, and some herbs.

I won’t even dignify that cringe-fest of a “debate” by commenting.  Like a monkey shit-fight, it speaks for itself.  We’re all doomed.

Instead, it’s a beautiful breezy early fall day, finally not raining, just right for getting work done on my “prairie” 12-step program.  Today I finally finished clearing around most of the little trees.  What a prickly briar patch of blackberries!  Next up–transplanting some specimens, and placing weed barriers around each tree.

Here we have Misu proving to be useful as a book-holder, when she’s not draped over the sill or lounging in her new box.  Also, E’s latest pizza, after the YK fast.  And of course your compulsory flowers, with a monarch and a bee.

One thing I’ll say for this Yom Kippur–it’s one of the strangest, bleakest ones in my memory, and I don’t need to tell you why.  The most positive aspect of it, ironically, is the fast.  A system purge and reset is definitely in order.  Overeating is overrated.

As for atonement and justice, a certain criminal-in-chief comes to mind.  Regardless of your thoughts on g-d, or lack thereof, surely some overdue judgment or consequences must eventually prevail.  No one, not even a Hitler, gets away with murder forever.  I have to believe he’ll get what he deserves, and soon.

And now back down to earth.  It’s been raining like a sieve.  The field and garden are loaded with festive colors.  When I’m feeling overly anxious and depressed, biology reassures me that not all is f—ed up beyond repair.  Just under a dark cloud for now, with the odd glimmer of light.  Silver linings payback, perhaps?  ;-D

It’s easy to be somber and sober(-ish) this (erev) Yom Kippur, what with all the death and despair!  Our grim reaper-in-chief has set the stage for the proper mood of existential dread and foreboding.  Wee!  All that’s left for me to do is not talk about fasting!

Speaking of food, since we’re also entering the harvest season, here is a pile of harvest stuff I managed to grow.  Also the usual lots of flowers.  For those who observe the holy day, “G’mar chatima tovah”.  May you be inscribed and sealed for good in the book of life.  Seems somehow appropriate in these days of hundreds of thousands of deaths on our doorsteps.