My high hopes for 2020 have pretty much hit the skids since the virus appeared on the scene in March. Actually it was here long before, but we were unaware. Once the country did finally wake up, it was too late and opportunites to defeat it were lost. Now, months later, we are still at war with it. Who knows how this will end?
My calendar is blank, and I spend much of my time alone due to public health guidelines. However, there is still some joy. I found myself going to grandson John's graduation via a uTube live stream. I always assumed I'd be there in person, but that was not to be.
Another source of happiness was the long awaited opening of the community garden in late May. We all scrambled around to get the grounds back in order, ridding the garden of waist high weeds that were so plentiful the paths between garden plots had disappeared. Within a week, all was back in order and our wonderful weed-eating sheep arrived to finish the job. And now fire season approaches while the daily virus numbers go up. I had high hopes for 2020. Not so much anymore. However, half the year is still left. I remain hopeful... and thankful that it hasn't been worse. It has been a devastating time for so many. On we go...
