2020 March 24 Tuesday in Liberty Hill Texas Welcome to our daily journal! Send Mail to: TomAndEllaJournal@gmail.com
Day eleven of being self isolated because of the corona-virus.
id you notice something different? No fog! That’s right,”there’s magic in my eyes I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles.” Oh yeah.” (song by The Who – 1967)
e opened the windows overnight and the door, once we were up. We will keep them open as long as it doesn’t become too warm. And, if is truly going to reach eighty three degrees, it might be before noon. Then we’ll close up and start the air conditioner.
ccasionally, the clouds would thin enough that the sun would appear as a bright disc, looking for all the world, like the moon. And soon, too soon, was hidden once again. But wait! The forecast, as yet unproven as I write this morning. Is for a sunny afternoon. Now I pray that the next forecast issued for COVID-19, will be equally cheering.
ust before noon the sun shook off the coat of clouds and began to pour out a week’s worth of sunshine. Though the return of that long lost friend was welcomed back, and though he warms our souls, we shut the door and drew the shades to half mast. His rays through the windows soon had the indoor thermometer creeping up on eighty. Outdoors it reached a record breaking (for this date) eighty six degrees.
Today’s Instapot lunch was lentils, kielbasa, carrots, celery, chicken stock, and (just for the heck of it) a little bit of barley. For dessert was a banapple no bake pie. Instant banana pudding and a can of apple pie filling in a shortbread pie crust.
Remembering My Youth
Once there was a boy-child who played and stayed in the brilliant summer sun ’till his hair was near white and skin near chestnut.
Trees, hills, and fences too, were made for climbing. And climb he did. From top branches smaller than a man’s thumb he hug by his hands, knees, and toes.
As he was swayed by that ever restless breeze of summer, his mind’s eye looked down to the pirate ship’s deck far below, where Captain Hook shook his one good fist at the fair-haired boy, dressed in green, far up in the crow’s nest.
Next, as he squatted in his loin-cloth, high in the vine covered tree, a gentle African wind carried with it, a strange aroma among the normal scents of the jungle, the aroma of a dangerous rogue elephant. as it came crashing through the underbrush.
Now the international man of danger lay flat against the skyscraper roof, binoculars to his eyes and studied the movement of the band of spies that were just coming ashore from the foreign submarine.
All too soon, mother called him down from his perch. Time for lunch and a nap. He had no need of a nap. He had been dreaming all morning.
Water for awhile.
Survival food for awhile.
Trash bags, TP, disinfectant wipes, and towels for awhile. Oh yes, buddy burners and a few yards of rope.
Tools for simple repair and construction.
His and hers duffle-bags with everything that NEMA, National Emergency Management Association recommends, was well as FEMA, Federal Emergency Management Agency. And other supplies recommended by various survivalist and preppers. I don’t think of Ella and myself as “peppers”, as a good scout I do believe in, “Be Prepared.” Oh yes, the truck and topper for temporary shelter.
God bless and g’nite.
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- All content (except quotations) ©2020 Thomas E. Williams
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