Vancouver is an international city. I mention this because I rode my bike to Central Park, which is right at the border of Vancouver and Burnaby. I love this particular loop. The old cycling route (it dates all the way back to Expo 86) is generally quiet. In #PlagueVancouver it's emptiness reminded me of The Omega Man.
Burnaby's Central Park is a bit like going to Stanley Park, but without the ocean and self-entitled Coal Harbour residents. There are big trees to be found.
Although it's quiet and wooded, it's a well-used place. Local residents walk the trails, look at the pond and feed the ducks... all that good stuff. I mention the "international city" angle because, as I was practicing social distancing by riding past the folks on the trail, I enjoyed overhearing a diversity of mother tongues. I like that about my neighbourhood. Mandarin, Tagalog, French, Spanish, and Polish all landed in my ears as I rolled past people people who were just trying to do something in the face of Covid-19. The world has gotten so small. It's one of the reasons why this virus sweeps across the globe so effectively. Here, at home, these new Canadians give me hope for a future of diverse cultures (and sufficient taxpayers to fund my old age). If I get to have one.
At home today I made myself soft cheesy scrambles on butter-toasted cornbread. (I'm using it up, if you remember from my last post.) This was super yummy. I think it was pretty enough on the vintage dish, but maybe you disagree? Yes. That is freshly grated Parm.
Regarding getting overdue chores done in the face of existential dread... I am pleased to inform you that I just can't be, as Aisling Bea says... arsed. The rat shit in the garage will wait... Old cardboard will wait... the van has been filthy since, well... forever. Let it wait.
We did kick back at the darkness effectively by doing light gardening, though. I turned over some dirt and got wifey planting my herbs, We played music a bit too loud in the front yard and smiled at people as they COVID-walked past the place. Most smiled.
Gardening always makes me think of Mom, gone nine years now. Here's a picture of my garlic sprouts, which I seeded last fall, long before #PlagueVancouver was even a thing. Mom used to grow garlic and share it with me. Pictured here is my "Dutch Hoe", which sounds a bit dirty. I inherited it from mom's gear. It's a demon on weeds and clumps.
I continue to try to balance my information intake. It's a constant barrage. I've found some success by checking in on local (BC and Vancouver) info, and National news from Canada, once or twice a day. Honestly, one of the most effective tools is being on the Mayor's mailing list. Good updates there. I'm trying to avoid hearing about every single thing happening in every single community suffering in the face of the Coronavirus. It's not constructive for me. Some of it is uplifting. A lot of it is horrific. Most of it is oppressive noise. I am developing skills at being choosy.
At home we are continuing to shape how we interact with the world and maintain social circles. Today I will hand over some of my sourdough starter to a dear friend. Give her something to do on #CovidVacation days.
We will have coffee in the yard on well-spaced lawn chairs. Distance and hygiene protocols will be observed. That's about as close as anyone is gonna get for a while, as far as I can see.
Head down. Eyes open. Hands clean.
Be well.
1 comment:
Looking forward to the starter - I’ve decided to name it William. I will sing to it.
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