NO DUMPING

Nine o'clock Sunday evening, 70°F 77% on 7H porch, a most pleasant evening, large mug of water with ice cubes and a carton of blackberries. Later, slight pang of hunger so open-face sandwich, a slice of Good Seeds bread with smear of mayo and half inch thick layer of chicken salad bought Saturday at Grocery Outlet that we call Bill's. That good chicken salad from Victoria's Last Bite in Lynn Haven. It ain't cheap, but it's the best.

Seen through the hurricane-thinned trees earlier in the evening, the blue flashing light of a police boat working in the Bay the far side of Davis Point. Related, IDK, now watching a helicopter fly a search pattern over the Bay there on the other side, search light on the Bay surface. Fear someone is frantic, a loved one didn't arrive home when expected after an afternoon on the water. 

Thinking of boats, we were delighted this weekend to see, first time since HMichael, a goodly number of pleasure boats on the Bay. A positive and encouraging sign of life.

Interesting time we are living into, isn’t it. No point in going off dystopian about it, apocalyptically the close of the age and such, brought on by an angry Father Nature, where a couple years from now everything is overgrowing with vines and public works in disrepair because something happened to the population. Or the world's population has taken a nosedive and the average person is teens or twenties, no longer mid sixties, because of a desolating pandemic. Could it happen? I suppose. Am I ready? Doesn't matter: eight, nine, TEN, coming ready or not. 

Article I read Sunday afternoon, link below, scroll down, I thought was perceptive and wise. It brought to mind our closing hymn yesterday morning, "Now quit your care and anxious fear and worry, for ... fretting brings no gain". For us at least, the temporary aloneness of isolation, if it comes to that, seems not bad here in 7H with our porch and the Bay of my life and heart. Hopefully temporary. China is reportedly rebounding?

Provided, I guess, everyone isn't so isolated and withdrawn that products and services of society become unavailable and we sink below recoverable as one commercial and industrial after another goes under. Like a submarine diving too deep. Slowly or quickly. For whoever’s left, the infrastructure gone, groceries, gasoline, running water, electricity. Medics, police, government, whoever was once in charge. Collapsed institutions. Here and there, little isolated groups of people, roving bands. Crumbling, empty buildings, packs of hungry dogs. Are people smart enough to solve unexpected urgencies and survive? See, I've been here enough years to notice and realize that nothing lasts forever, not even that which we were always certain, always assumed was permanent - -

… the star lit heaven,
The glorious sun’s life giving ray,
The whiteness of the moon at even,
The flashing of the lightning free,
The whirling wind’s tempestuous shocks,
The stable earth, the deep salt sea
Around the old eternal rocks.

The old eternal rocks. Nothing material is eternal. Not even ideas are permanent if there are no people, not even ideas, thoughts, possibilities. Back to Ish. 

Also read yesterday, the latest iteration of "The Daily Sip", which once seemed so calm, peaceful, idyllic, plain, basic. Seems to have wandered off into ranting bitterness that, for lack of being heard, writing angrily from a distant hermit's cave, is bent on tearing down whatever might be called human construct. Including and especially religion. I don't necessarily disagree with what he says, that we've done it to ourselves, we had it coming, and here we are at just desserts. What brings me up short is the splenetic tone of good riddance. Or maybe yes, that's how earth will feel after humans: healing, reclaiming, returning to nature, and starting afresh.     

https://www.patheos.com/blogs/daniellekingstrom/2020/03/coronavirus-will-it-lead-to-compassion-or-chaos/?utm_source=Newsletter&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Christians+For+a+Better+Christianity&utm_content=4


66°F 83%. Dark. On the beach below, someone coughs.

Everyone has an end, an ending, eh? But I don’t necessarily think this is it for whoever or whatever survives. Someone needs to be here to experience and record it when the sun starts to expand, no?