Happy Mother's Day to those who celebrate it today rather than in March. I've heard the March holiday referred to as "Mothering Sunday," which has a somewhat warmer feel than "Mother's Day." I contributed to the family Mother's Day history by totally not noticing a vase of flowers and a lovely potted flowering plant despite walking right by the end of the table on which they sat ... twice. We had been out walking the family dog. When we'd left, the husband had stayed behind to put food in the family dog's food rug and get out the flowers. When we got back, older son and I came into the house first, and I immediately went to pet the family cat who has been having some medical issues lately. She happened to be laying beside the invisible flowers. After I petted her, I went to hang up my jacket. The husband came inside and asked older son if I had seen the flowers. Older son said he didn't think I'd seen them. "What flowers?" I asked as I turned around to see them sitting on the edge of the table I had just walked by twice. I will not live that one down for a while, if ever.
Eight weeks of hermitting, and the news from the outside world is hardly encouraging. Two weeks after its reopening, Georgia (the state, not the country) has seen something like a 40 percent increase in new cases of covid-19. Rates are going back up in South Korea and China as they begin to reopen. In eight weeks, I may be writing "The View from the Hermitage, Day 112." I wonder what odds I should give that.
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