The shattered do not break
Yesterday was officially canceled when I hit my head on the cast-iron freezer door of our ancient and janky refrigerator when it swung open above me just as I straightened from putting away some groceries. I lay on the couch and ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spatch brought me cold things out of the freezer to ameliorate the nauseating pain and checked my pupils for concussion and eventually I just went to bed with the complete short stories about Sherlock Holmes and therefore I have no idea why I dreamed about hanging out with choco_frosh to discuss a late, new novel by Susan Cooper in The Dark Is Rising Sequence, but at least I was asleep for almost eight hours while doing it.
Today was mostly spent on work and therapy over the phone, but I had a lovely conversation withrushthatspeaks in the evening and in the late afternoon I got out of the house with Rob right before we lost the last of the light.
The weeping cherry is still at it!
I've been seeing these trees come into blossom all over the neighborhood. According to the tree inventory maintained by Somerville's Urban Forestry Division, they are a species of Japanese flowering cherry.
With something of a tendency to devour houses.
I liked the Edward Hopper light—and the tree shadows—on the side of the Winter Hill Post Office.
It was the Winter Hill Theatre until 1918.
We had no idea about the mural hiding in the bricks behind its parking lot. It turns out to be Liz LaManche's "Goddess of Winter Hill."
You can see the back garden of our duplex from this angle, but not our actual back deck: there's a lilac tree in the way.
I am just very taken with the eye-filling fluffiness of this late-blooming cherry.
I have to make about half a dozen phone calls tomorrow that I woke too late for today. One of them is to the governor. I already called the city to tell them that someone has almost knocked over the new little elm tree and I personally would like to see it safely replanted. I said I felt protective and I meant it.
[edit 2020-05-08 15:22] After about eight minutes on hold, I got a staffer at the office of Governor Baker and expressed my strongest possible reservations about even cautiously reopening the state on May 18. I cited the advances we haven't made in medicine, identified myself as a chronically ill person in the double bind of high-risk and treatment on hold, and praised the governor's previous handling of the crisis and desired him not to blow it at the last minute and set us up for a lethal spike in June. And then I thanked the staffer for listening, because I imagine that he's hearing a lot of this sort of thing lately. I hope it makes a difference.
spatch brought me cold things out of the freezer to ameliorate the nauseating pain and checked my pupils for concussion and eventually I just went to bed with the complete short stories about Sherlock Holmes and therefore I have no idea why I dreamed about hanging out with choco_frosh to discuss a late, new novel by Susan Cooper in The Dark Is Rising Sequence, but at least I was asleep for almost eight hours while doing it.Today was mostly spent on work and therapy over the phone, but I had a lovely conversation with
rushthatspeaks in the evening and in the late afternoon I got out of the house with Rob right before we lost the last of the light.
The weeping cherry is still at it!
I've been seeing these trees come into blossom all over the neighborhood. According to the tree inventory maintained by Somerville's Urban Forestry Division, they are a species of Japanese flowering cherry.
With something of a tendency to devour houses.
I liked the Edward Hopper light—and the tree shadows—on the side of the Winter Hill Post Office.
It was the Winter Hill Theatre until 1918.
We had no idea about the mural hiding in the bricks behind its parking lot. It turns out to be Liz LaManche's "Goddess of Winter Hill."
You can see the back garden of our duplex from this angle, but not our actual back deck: there's a lilac tree in the way.
I am just very taken with the eye-filling fluffiness of this late-blooming cherry.
I have to make about half a dozen phone calls tomorrow that I woke too late for today. One of them is to the governor. I already called the city to tell them that someone has almost knocked over the new little elm tree and I personally would like to see it safely replanted. I said I felt protective and I meant it.
[edit 2020-05-08 15:22] After about eight minutes on hold, I got a staffer at the office of Governor Baker and expressed my strongest possible reservations about even cautiously reopening the state on May 18. I cited the advances we haven't made in medicine, identified myself as a chronically ill person in the double bind of high-risk and treatment on hold, and praised the governor's previous handling of the crisis and desired him not to blow it at the last minute and set us up for a lethal spike in June. And then I thanked the staffer for listening, because I imagine that he's hearing a lot of this sort of thing lately. I hope it makes a difference.
no subject
And yep -- it's at a church near me, while I was also hunting down deep purple tulips.
no subject
You should post the tulips, too, if they came out.
no subject
More in my journal.
Also, thank you for your letter, I will call Baker's office and say similar-but-not-exactly-the-same things on Monday.
no subject
I shall check them out!
Also, thank you for your letter, I will call Baker's office and say similar-but-not-exactly-the-same things on Monday.
You're welcome. And thank you in advance. I want it to make a difference.