A Mighty Oak...

From tiny acorns grow....
There's something hopeful about finding these acorns on the ground about this time of year. A sign of new life as a part of the cycles of life, I suppose. Or perhaps the fact that some things don't change even as so many things seem to be going to hell in a handbasket.

I had the radio on for as long as it took me to drive from my house to Spring Lake for a walk with a friend this morning...less than ten minutes. In that amount of time I heard the sober reporting of National Public Radio trying to responsibly decipher the behavior of the president as he careens from one contradictory message to the next, effectively doing nothing but digging himself into a deeper hole. Meanwhile, the Covid virus is careening out of control. Denying its existence seems to be the only way he can feel in control even as he realizes that it is one thing he cannot control. Either that or he's just lost the plot entirely. Or both.

The current worries involve what forms executive ordered voter suppression will take and what will happen if he is not re-elected but refuses to leave office? Can we really be having this banana republic discussion in this once proud nation? On National Public Radio and not Fox News? 

I didn't turn the radio on for the ten minute drive home.

I listened to the Fall of Civilizations podcast on the Byzantine Empire as I put together a few place mats for a neighbor's birthday present. How extraordinary to hear that as plague raged through the streets of Byzantium, the emperor hid in his richly appointed palace and refused to offer money to assist the poor who were afflicted in great numbers. This on the same day as I read in our paper that the Senate is balking at extending the $600/week unemployment benefit, because it will ‘prevent people from going back to work’. Lot of mixed messages there....The governor of California is sending special Covid Task forces to several counties in Central California which are largely Hispanic (or Latinex, as they seem to be saying now) farm laborers, because their rate of infection is three times higher than other places.

History does indeed repeat itself. 

I think it's about to repeat itself chez nous as we open yet another bottle of wine.