At the top of summer 2020

Lupine and Indian paintbrush

Well, here we are, already into the first days of August. This is probably my least favorite month of the year, since it's also the hottest (unless you're in the Southern Hemisphere, where it's the coldest). It's a month of extremes here in the Pacific Northwest. Unremitting sun, for the most part, with few clouds and little rain. Just about the opposite of the rest of the year. Last week Melanie and I went on a scouting trip looking for summer flowers, when she took the picture above. I have one almost the same, except there is only one lone paintbrush in mine. You might not be able to see how hot it was from the picture, but it was well out of my comfort zone.

The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color. ―Natalie Babbitt

That quote says it all for me. Yes, it's the top of the year, with the coming weeks and months taking me into fall, my favorite season. And this year, the strangest I've ever experienced, will be accompanied in the coming months with face masks, social distancing, more hand washing, and no gatherings of any size. It will be a year without hikes with the Senior Trailblazers, no visits to the gym for exercise class, and very limited face time with my friends.

Many of the regular hikers have broken off into smaller groups. We are allowed to gather in groups of five or fewer, but for us, it's been the same three people. On Thursday afternoon, our usual hiking day, we have a Zoom gathering that is visited by many of my dear hiking buddies, and I get a chance to hear what others are doing. There are a few who enjoy going fast and long; others that are more sedate, like me. Melanie could choose to go with the first group, and she sometimes does, but she also likes to slow down now and then with me. I've decided that I'm done with the hard hikes and will limit my outings to eight or nine miles, tops.

I have a nice four-mile walk in the neighborhood that I take two or three times a week, usually early in the morning these days, and listening to podcasts as I walk. I bought myself some Apple AirPods that I really enjoy using. They have a noise canceling feature that works very well, and with a quick tap, I can make it possible to hear other sounds around me. The only time I use them is when I am out walking in my neighborhood. On TV, I see that many of the pundits are using them also. Their distinctive look, like white earrings, is ubiquitous these days, since most of these people are not in a studio but at home and joining remotely.

In the six months or so since the world has been turned upside down by the coronavirus, I read and learn as much as I can about it, and how we and other countries are faring. We are not doing so well here in the US, but I am proud of how my county and state have adapted. We are still in Phase 2 of reopening, and our governor has paused any further openings until we have returned to R-0, or where we are no longer gaining new infections but are on the decline. We were there for a short while, but then restaurants and bars reopened (even in a limited capacity) and caused a spike. It's happening all over the country.

On Friday, I joined my friend Lily for a beer at a local restaurant that has plenty of outdoor seating. They have picnic tables set up outside, shaded with umbrellas, and a Plexiglass shield separating them into two seating areas. The menu is available through a smartphone: you point your camera at a sign and it magically appears on your phone. Many places no longer allow you to pay with cash; instead you need a credit card so that there are fewer interactions with money. Even the local ice cream shop doesn't allow you to pay with cash. When we return to our new normal, I wonder how many of these things will remain in the post-Covid world.

We are nothing if not adaptable. Most of us are able to have limited visits with friends, and my Zoom yoga classes have become an essential part of my self-care. I didn't think I would become accustomed to it as well as I have, and now I'm thinking that I just might continue doing remote yoga, once we are able to return to the studio. It certainly helped to have several years of in-person instruction before this all happened. Mostly I know what to do and how to correct myself, but the familiar voice of my instructor reminds me often. And she can see us through the Zoom interface and will sometimes correct us by name when she sees something not quite right.

Speaking of adaptation, I learned that one of those awful murder hornets that have invaded our state has been caught in a trap. Someone right here in Bellingham found one on her back porch, and the one trapped was also in our county.

Scientists have been trying to trap the invasive insects and prevent an infestation since they were first spotted in the state last year. More than two inches long, the hornets get their nickname from their propensity to attack and kill honeybees and potentially, people.

Since their appearance in our area, I have worried about seeing one and not knowing what to do. Our honeybees have no defense against them, but I learned that in Japan, where they have been around for awhile, their honeybees have learned to surround a murder hornet scout with hundreds of bees, and vibrate long enough and hard enough to generate heat and "cook" it. Talk about adaptation! Nature always finds a way.

Which makes me feel optimistic about our ability as humans to find a way to adapt to whatever comes. One thing I have learned over the years is that nothing is as difficult or daunting as it often first appears. There are silver linings to everything, and it might take us some time to find out what this coronavirus is bringing us, but I know for sure that we will prevail. I feel fortunate to be alive long enough to see what is ahead. At least, I hope I will live long enough; our days are not guaranteed, and I've certainly lived a good long time already.

But unless something happens that will keep me from being around to usher in the year 2021, I'll find out. And I am definitely happy to be able to surround myself with wonderful virtual friends, ones that make my days more delightful, and give me a sense of community that is invaluable. My dear partner still sleeps next to me, but he's beginning to stir around, so I'd probably better wind this up and start the rest of my August day. Until we meet again, dear friends, I wish you all good things, and don't forget to count all those blessings.