Tag Archives: quarantine

Normantown News – March Week 4

Frank and I have now been home and off work for two weeks. Early in the second week, I started taking naps in the afternoon around three o’clock, that time of day when I get drowsy. On my third day of napping, I slept until almost 8 p.m., and now my sleep schedule is all wonky. I get up at my usual time, nap in the afternoons, and then I’m up again until one or two in the morning. About the same time the napping started, I lost track of what day it is. Not that it really matters, since I have nowhere to go.

I am so grateful that this quarantine hit during a time when the weather permits comfortable time outdoors. I have cleared all the flower beds and the herb beds, and Frank brought out and serviced the riding mower. I’ve been spending more and more time sitting on the back porch overlooking the lake. This is my Zen time, my calming space… My reprieve from the world, the news, the life that happens inside the house.

Spring is the return of light. In my heart, I celebrate the time change more than any other holiday. Suddenly time makes sense again, and the days adorn their evening accessories for the season. Evening walks are no longer dim adventures in the darkness, morning sunrises include sun rays that shine from the hilltops down into the valley. The gray of winter is gone, and I am glad. The coronavirus was confirmed in West Virginia the day before spring’s official arrival. COVID-19 may have dampened spring plans for humankind, but the West Virginia hills are unaffected and are bursting forth with life and color.

Spring is the return of sound. The peepers sing first, a nice change from the winter cawing of crows. Then slowly, different bird songs sing out to join them. Robins, red-winged blackbirds, sparrows, thrushes, finches. Somehow, I feel as though I can breathe better when the birds are singing. The birds bring activity back to the hills, flitting from hither to yon. I know the sound of the finch landing on the rim of the gutter, of the blackbird fluttering into the air to snatch a bug in flight. I know the sound of a duck coming in for a landing, the splash of their successful set-down upon the water.

Wild ducks come and go on the water all winter, and the geese joined them for a few weeks, until the regular pair chose their nesting spot on the island. After that, the spring turf wars began, and all geese but those two are forbidden at this body of water. The pair doesn’t mind the presence of the ducks, or the gray heron, the kingfisher, or the muskrats. But if another goose tries to stop by for a visit? Oh, the ruckus. Frank and I have observed this spring rite now for 21 years.

Spring is the return of color. My forsythia bushes are just glorious this year. They’re like botanical suns glowing at each end of the porch. The undergrowth in the forest glows light green at the base of the trees all in various stages of budding. After a day of rain, the hayfields were suddenly green again, no longer that faded beige they wear during winter. I see hues of pink here and there on the hillsides and in my yard—the redbud getting ready in the woods, the quince blooming along the fence.

The lake out back is a stopping point for white egrets on their spring migration, and two of them appeared two days ago. Their stark white was such a contrast to the background that their presence in the scenery as I passed the back door window stopped me in my tracks. Their purity almost glowed. The same day, I read about egret sightings on the Ohio River, and in Tucker County. The pair stayed for one afternoon, and moved on. In previous years, they have stayed up to a week. I have not seen Mr. Holiday, the eagle, in weeks but I have seen a hawk fishing—dive bombing the water like the kingfisher, from the branches of the ancient hickory tree on the far edge of the water.

My daffodils are blooming, daylilies and what I call Easter lilies are all up and growing, the hostas are peeking through and the sedum looks strong and steady. When I take Daisy (beagle) and Dandelion (yellow tabby) for our walks, I make sure to stop and check on the asparagus patch. A peeking sprout today could be a harvestable stalk tomorrow.

A friend and I recently discussed how painful and unfair it can be that life goes on following tragic events. We’re given no time to recover, no time to grieve, process, and adapt to the drastic change. But at the same time, how comforting that when the world of humankind screeches to a halt (individually or worldwide), the redbud will keep on blooming. Egrets continue to migrate, geese continue to nest and lay eggs. The robins and finches are not social distancing, the hawk is not afraid. How blessed we are to be quarantined amongst the spring beauty of these West Virginia hills.

Social distancing does not mean “stay inside.” Unlike those in urban areas, we have the space to wander and walk. This year, spring seems especially magnificent. Don’t let current events cause you to miss it.

While all other events have been canceled at this time, the Food Pantry at Normantown Historical Community Center will still be held the 2nd Friday of April. They are working on the guidelines for doing the pantry on April 10, which will include traffic control, taped boxes, etc. If you aren’t aware, the National Guard is helping Mountaineer Food Bank continue serving these community food banks, and how thankful everyone is for their assistance in keeping folks safe and fed. Keep an eye out for the new guidelines. Last month’s pantry fed 87 families with 217 people included in those families.

Vendors who paid for tables for the to-be-rescheduled Spring Vendor Event at NHCC will have their payments returned to them. Donkey Basketball has been rescheduled for

Thanks to Rose Beall for the freezer moved to NHCC, and thanks to George Rose for purchasing another freezer and refrigerator. Donations to NHCC can be made online at https://nhccwv.com/donation, or mailed to: NHCC, 3031 Hackers Creek Road, Jane Lew 26378, c/o Margaret.

If you have any 25267 area news you would like to share with community readers or any personal messages you want shared in local media, by Sunday morning for the upcoming week, send an email to hayesminney@gmail.com or leave a message on our machine at 304-354-9132. I also have a seasonal email newsletter that includes links to this column online. You can subscribe at tinyurl.com/two-2020.

What Day is It? Update

Wednesday. It’s Wednesday, right?

As far as I can tell, our phones have finally been repaired. For a good while, we could not receive or make long-distance phone calls. That basically means that for nearly a week, I couldn’t contact my family. Keep in mind also, we live in 354, and work, stores a majority of our friends, etc. are in 462. So, the first week of our (self-imposed) quarantine, I couldn’t contact anyone I really felt the need to speak with.

Governor Justice gave us just a little over 24 hours to get ready for the state-imposed quarantine. I went to the library yesterday. I watered the plants, filled the birdfeeders, took out the trash, checked email. Libraries across WV (and the US) are pumping out all kinds of posts and links for free digital entertainment and education. You can follow Gilmer Public Library for the ones I’ve been sharing, or visit the WV Library Commission’s site for a list of links that’s being updated several times a day.

Since we were already set for a big bug-in, I hit the liquor store on my way out of town. I’m not much of a drinker, but …. well, it does help me sleep when I’m stressed.

The house is already the cleanest it has been in years, and no one will witness it. Such a shame. I was tempted to run to Ohio and grab Mother on Sunday and bring her here but didn’t. I’m still not sure if that was the best decision. Since then, a case has been confirmed in her county in Ohio, and in one of the WV counties I would have to cross to get to her. I know that cousins and neighbors there are keeping check on her, but I would feel so much better if she was here with us.

I also have this huge impulse to find a way to get family in Southern Virginia here. In all my prepper scenarios, family came to us. We have free gas, free well water, and pretty much all you need except a cell phone signal (and reliable landline service). We have satellite internet, and I expect will be adding to our data package this month.

I spent one evening online shopping. Not too much damage–a ring light for possible future video broadcasts, more wooden stamps to decorate the letters I write, and four pullets (chickens just past the chick stage) to arrive in May.

It’s just my luck that we were ready for the apocalypse (or economic crash) for ten years, and three years after we relaxed a bit about it, this happens. When I announced I had ordered hens, Frank said, “I thought we were going to wait on that.” Yeah, well… I’ve got that “We’re not ready for impending doom,” panic going on again in the pit of my gut. I’ve been sorting our pantry, lamenting all the empty canning jars that could, and should have been full. I’m sure within the next week I’ll order the converter that converts our gasoline generators to natural gas — the last and only item left on the prepper list we set aside a few years back.

Frank watches COVID-19 news all day. West Virginia’s number of cases damn near doubled yesterday. It churns my stomach hearing the constant bad news and reminds me why we disposed of our mainstream television service after 9-11. I was tired of the daily doses of new terror. The lack of air traffic overhead also reminds me of the time following 9-11. Air traffic here is quite common, but the skies are unmarked now. At some point each day, I steal the remote from Frank and pop in a movie or TV series (currently binging Supernatural, Star Gate, and Star Trek: DS9; checked in with movie classics including Hunger Games, Hobbit, Fellowship of the Ring, Lonesome Dove, Forrest Gump, and The Stand, of course).

Reading? Currently “Beloved” by Toni Morrison, “Me Talk Pretty One Day” by David Sedaris, and all kinds of articles I’ve printed out from the Internet.

Projects include working on a new non-fiction book, teaching myself watercolors, prepping to launch an online writer’s workshop/retreat, purging and organizing the file cabinets. You guys know I’ve unfriended lots of people on Facebook over the last few years. I check on some of them now online but am relieved I’m not getting all of it in my news feed.

I also make sure to catch the almost daily press conferences by our governor.

I’ve never been a Jim Justice fan. And, I admit, on TV he comes across as a bit of a twit. “Now” (my father was a “Now” person), “and everything,” (lots of folks say that), and “shape, form, make, or measure,” (yeah, getting tired of that one). BUT! All that being said? I’m proud of him. I am comforted by his simple down to earth approach. Jim is Jim. He knows this state I think. He knows his and our weaknesses…

I’ve come to the conclusion that “Big Jim” doesn’t have the ability to bullshit us. And Jim has sense enough to surround himself with experts. He doesn’t need to pronounce right, doesn’t need to speak the details. He has folks to do that for him. I’m okay with that.

Today, West Virginia has a non-denominational day of prayer. It may be corny, but that’s WV too. I’m okay with that as well and will be watching. You can catch it on the WV Governor’s web site or YouTube channel at noon.

I had planned to return to town on Friday, to help hang a new hand-made door on the library’s outbuilding. I may or may not do that. Next week, I had hoped to order sand for the library’s paver-patio project. I will likely still do that. My need to see progress “in spite of” is damn near overwhelming. Besides, our board quickly voted to continue paying employees during this closure and I need to go in and do payroll.

I’m not capable of staying home for weeks anymore. Ten years I did that. My daily walks with the cat and dog help but I can only go so long without checking on the library — 19 miles away. (These visits to the library are permitted under the current stay-at-home order, by the way.) I have the road to myself on the commute now, and there’s no traffic at the county’s solitary stoplight. I see few, carry sanitary wipes, etc.

Last week I noted I would not stay home for weeks on end, “Coronavirus be damned.” I still will not. I’m not going to go out willy-nilly, and won’t be licking packs of toilet paper in the Dollar Store. But, stagnation is not in my nature. I am one of those people who can barely sit still for 30 minutes. I was completely relieved to learn that I have a legal reason to leave the house, to check on the library. I am quite grateful for that.

Right now, my stay-at-home skills seem to last about five days. Frank has taken up the habit of pointing out how many times I touch my face during the day. I’m pretty sure that’s going to cost him dearly very soon.

So. We’re surviving it, and will be fine. I’m a little antsy, but it is what it is. But, if we lose our long-distance phone service again, I may have to drink some liquor and post a slam against Frontier.

Stay well folks. My love for those who are homebound, and to those “essentials” who are still out there.

Peace and love.