In which social distancing continues, and we tend to our gardens

"Il faut cultiver son jardin." -- Voltaire

In most movies and books about social apocalypse, it seems like there's a lot of chasing around and blowing up stuff.

My experience so far is much quieter.

The tomato seedlings took a short field trip out of my office and into the greenhouse today.

I'm working from home still, plugging in to trainings and meetings and creating some stuff (including a list of books about plagues and another booklist about dragons!),

One of three office chairs:  this is Jim's saddle! 
Plus, a nice view of silly birds in the forsythia bush out the window.

Morning meetings take place in the backyard on sunny days--the office is too bright for my screen!
Now all my colleagues have heard the rooster crow in the middle of meetings.

This business of "stay safe/stay home" is pretty low-speed.  I checked my bank records:  I went to the grocery store March 29th.  Gonna need to go again this week, we're perilously low on salsa.

HOWEVER...check this out!

25-pound bags of unbleached white and whole wheat flour from a local mill.

As a longtime small-town resident, I've always known that it isn't what you know, it's who you know.

In this case, my high-school buddy Karen's daughter is managing Fairhaven Mills now, so I got the official scoop:  I could buy flour very freshly milled straight from the mill if I didn't mind driving.

I don't mind driving!

The white flour was ground on Monday, and the whole wheat flour was ground on Wednesday morning, a few hours before I picked it up.  And it is amazing.

My birthday was necessarily low-key this week.  We had a "family zoom" meeting, and I even got to "blow out candles".  It was nice to see everybody, but I miss seeing everybody.

Also, I dyed my hair purple.

Fashion is never the thing I do best.  Plague isn't making my choices any better.

My birthday gift from Jim: a particle-mask made for riding quads through dust.
It isn't surgical-quality or anything...OTOH, I don't get all claustrophobic and
rip it off my face after 5 seconds.

Riding is still essential.  

Riding in the pasture is never my favorite, but it is an option.

The trailheads are still closed, but Monica's friend Sarah offered me a spot to park at her place near the Whitehorse Trail.

The trails are open, but the trailheads are closed.  This is supposed to
keep us from congregating.  Obviously, the people making these decisions
have never met The Dragon.

We got word that the 2020 Cross State Ride has been cancelled.  I'm sad, but not surprised.

View from our local rail-trail, the Whitehorse Trail.

Most equestrian events this spring are cancelled.

Swamp tulips, aka skunk cabbage.  "Looks like duck habitat to me," says Fiddle.

 I see that they've even cancelled Tevis, and it was scheduled for August!

This is a true swamp.  This "grass" is knee deep (or deeper) in water, with sludgy mud below that.
"Plus ducks, probably."

The trail is really loud, because it runs along the railway line that connected logging camps (still active) with sawmills (some still active) and the highways (definitely still active), so I didn't get much video.

But, here's a bridge. 

Stay safe, everyone.  Wash yer hands, ride yer ponies, tend yer gardens.