Playing along with 1979 Blondie on YouTube under the last of July's Guitar Strummin' moon.
"When I met you in the restaurant, you could tell I was no debutante / You asked me what's my pleasure, 'A movie or a measure'? / I'll have a cup of tea, and tell you of my dreaming / Dreamin' is free / Dreamin' ... dreaming is free ..." [lyrics from Dreaming by Blondie]
"... a song is an adventure you can have with yourself." [musician Jarvis Cocker in a NYTimes interview]
By my count, today is day 123 of the quarantine. The heat index hit 93 degrees. The rabbits ate all the green bean plants in the garden and there are alarming pools of water that keep forming near the refrigerator. Cases of the coronavirus are increasing daily again and have reached crisis points in many states. Our president has done his best to successfully turn the U.S. into one of his "sh!thole countries". Civil rights and voting rights champion and warrior Congressman John Lewis has died and Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg has had a recurrence of her cancer. One bright spot is the aqua-blue-sky ceiling in my little screened-in side porch.
"If we do not get meaningful legislation out of this Congress, the time will come when we will not confine our marching to Washington. ... We must say, 'Wake up, America, wake up!' For we cannot stop, and we will not be patient." [from Mr. Lewis' 1963 March on Washington speech]
My first outing to see a friend after four months of quarantine. Watching the magic of her Evening Primrose buds flutter and open as night falls. Sharing a glass of bubbly and stories of our confinement to take the edge off. How nice to be able to laugh together and share things in person.
The most amazing thing just happened. While I was out in the garden tending my flowers this evening a hummingbird came right up to me -- hovered at eye level and looked me right in the eye for the longest time. It was so close that I took a step backwards because I was afraid it was coming after me. It was there for at least half a minute -- was it trying to tell me something? -- then if flew off over the bushes. It had a glittering green head and wings -- a Ruby-throated hummingbird, I think. Thrilled me to the marrow...
The hummingbird came to me on my grandfather's birthday. According to the internet, some people of the Caribbean thought that the spirits of relatives lived on in the tiny birds and the Aztecs saw hummingbirds as messengers between them and their ancestors or the gods.
Hummingbirds: fly backwards, hover up and down, turn on a dime, and can go from flying at full speed to a complete stop.
"For some reason the hummingbird came your way; You can trust that something extraordinary can happen." (the Hummingbird in Mexican culture)
Front door and back porch visitors not keeping to social distance or masking recommendations.
"A kind face is a precious gift."
If it's the fourth of July it must be Jersey corn and blueberries. No sharing food and laughs this year -- just memories.
From the porch I hear strumming and singing:
Some days I just want to run away. But where do you run during a pandemic? And how do you run away as an adult? I keep thinking of the kids who wrapped up what they needed in a bandanna and tied it to a stick...
[childhood treasures: handmade felt tree with sequins and pinked edges / handmade carved and painted wood flower art / a favorite doll -- her dress now faded and fraying; she is "spinning" the wool she hold in her left hand]