Wildcat Creek Journal

I had a little help with our garden today. These two young ladies like doing most anything that requires getting dirty, or allows them to play with worms, or having a chance sighting of a garden mole. This afternoon, we dug one up, and it wouldn't do until I had captured the fuzzy little bugger in my cap for further study. We worked the soil together, me making sure nobody loses a toe or finger to the hoe, or ruins a foot with the garden claw. Safety first. We had a few disagreements over who got to use what, so I made them take turns. We planted a few hills of squash and cucumber, some Cherokee purple tomatoes, plus bell and cayenne peppers. In another location we will plant watermelons. Hopefully some of the plants will make it to adulthood. I have a tendency to kill things. I've always had a brown thumb, except when it comes to weeds. Now I'm sitting on the patio, resting my back and swollen knees. Getting old sucks. I never thought I'd see the day when I would have ...

At our house, we don't watch the news anymore. All we get are snippets from social media posts, most of which only exacerbate the feelings of fear and dread of our collective psyche. There's the occasional press conferences we will listen to, ones that directly effect our region, state, and community. We're not ignorant about what's going on across the nation, across the globe, neither are we in denial of the dire situation we face each day during this pandemic. I told my children yesterday that we're living through a period in time that will be looked back on for centuries. Their lives, too, have been interrupted. I realize that it's my job to provide for them some sense of normalcy. We spend as much time outside as we can.  So far, my job is holding up. Each day is a constant worry of how I would provide for my family, should I find myself without an income.  Every one of us will be affected by this, if not by the virus itself, by the economical situation. Fam...