I’ll bet none of us expected today to unfold the way it did. Which is not to say any of us who’ve been paying even half attention to the way the Coronavirus is being handled by the Administration are surprised. While that may be true, even by the standards of this chaotic presidency, today was a doozy of a day.
I discovered that the President and Melania had tested positive just after I published my post last night. Which makes the rapidity with which events seemed to degrade today all the more stunning. And the casualties keep mounting as I sat here this evening. Yet another Senator tested positive this evening (Sen. Thom Tillis) and then – just after 10:00 p.m. – Kellyanne Conway.
Knocked Out
And I will admit it: I fell asleep. Literally. In the midst of all of this, I just conked out. And I just woke up, almost by chance, with but a few minutes left to crank out a post.
I did manage to take a wild photo earlier this evening of the full moon, which is still essentially full as it casts a brilliant light in the night sky, and Mars burning brightly beside it.
Celestial Display
It surprised me that the moon seemed not to be minimizing Mars’s dazzling light in the least, which of course was because Mars is a planet – quite close by – as opposed to a star millions of miles away. A full moon often detracts from our enjoyment of meteor showers and the like because she drowns everything else out. Not Mars. Not tonight, anyway.
Mars may be small compared to stars, but it’s feisty. And it doesn’t seem to want to play second fiddle to anybody – least of all a mere satellite to the Earth.
I hesitate to guess what the third day of October will bring to us. It almost feels like October is a bizarre form of Advent Calendar – with a surprise behind every door.
Stay safe out there. Wear your masks and wash your hands. But mostly, try to stay home. It’s not worth it.
I took the two photos I’m including in tonight’s post within less than a minute of each other. The only change was the use of the zoom on my iPhone. While I do this a lot with a vast majority of the subjects I photograph – zoom in and out to see how much detail I can capture or what the big picture might tell about context – tonight’s two photos really caught my eye. Things look different.
Perhaps it’s just my mind struggling to make sense of the latest revelations billowing across the airwaves. Hearing our president admit, knowing he was being taped, that he was warned back in January of the colossal impact and likely devastation the Coronavirus was going to bring to our country. Hearing him relate to Bob Woodward in an eerily breathy and awestricken voice just how deadly and easily transmissible the virus is. And then recalling him telling us day after day the exact opposite of what he knew to be true.
It’s a lot.
And tonight’s clouds just felt like a darn good metaphor for what’s being revealed.
On the one hand, close up one can almost feel a bit of optimism. There’s some blue sky within the cross-hatch of the clouds, a bit of clarity. But if you look at the clouds a little more carefully, it’s as if they’re at cross purposes. Some seem clearly heading one way in the sky and another patch, almost within the realm of the first patch, seem intent on heading in the opposite direction.
Cross Purposes
One might imagine the view of the sky, if taken from a wider, more expansive perspective, might reveal even more hope; a bit more blue sky. More options.
Usually, when we ‘stop and take a step back’ we find some sense of reassurance or perspective.
I didn’t feel that tonight, especially when I got home and looked more carefully at the two photos. Nor did I feel it when I paid attention for the first time tonight to the latest ‘breaking news’ in what has become a fire hose of ugly revelations. But the thing is, the revelations are not a total surprise. If you were paying attention, the clouds at cross purposes were there all along.
We wanted to focus on the slivers of blue sky, the stark and dramatic outlines of the trees along the horizon.
If we’d adjusted our sights, taken a step back, we just might have caught wind of the blanket of darkness escaping our perception.
Then again, on second thought, perhaps it all looks rather bleak.
I’ll admit it: I’m distracted. Karl and I held to our commitment to refrain from watching politics this evening and instead indulged in some back-to-back episodes of Schitt’s Creek. But once 11:00 p.m. rolled around, Karl hit the sheets and I turned the channel from Netflix to cable news, where coverage of Hurricane Laura is dominating the news.
The enormity of the potential destruction this Category 4 hurricane is likely to inflict is hard to fathom. The meteorologist was describing a 20’ storm surge – which, first of all, is basically water as high as a two story building, right? But then he reminded us all that on top of that 20’ storm surge another 10’ of wild waves will be crashing against anything and everything in the storm’s path.
If you ask me, that sounds like the makings of an apocalyptic movie. And that wall of water? The most recent prediction that I heard (just now) is that it could extend as far as 40 miles inland. Forty miles. I imagine people living 40 miles from the coast do not ordinarily expect the sea to reach their doorstep.
Kenosha
And then there’s Kenosha, Wisconsin and the brutal race-related shootings that took place both Sunday night and then last night, too. Jacob Blake – another name we’re going to have to remember. At least it appears he will be able to speak up and speak out on his own behalf, even if he is paralyzed from the waist down (at least temporarily) and sustained grievous injuries to his vital organs. His sister’s statement rocked my world.
I don’t even know what to say about a 17 year old kid from Illinois showing up at a protest in Wisconsin (about Jacob Blake being shot in the back seven times by police) with an AR-57 and blowing two people away. “Only in America?” “Is America great again?”
The Republican Convention
From what little I just saw over the last several minutes, between the other two massive stories, above, it looks and sounds like there’s precious little overlap in realities anymore. That’s scary. But it’s not a scary that makes me sacred. It’s a scary that makes me angry. And determined.
Wild Fires
Oh – and lest we forget, California is battling unbelievably ravaging wildfires sparked by dry thunderstorms. Yes, they’re a thing. And I’m pretty sure there were something like 1100 dry lightning strikes that set the current blazes alight.
Pandemic
And we hit 180,066 – make that 183,653 – deaths from the Coronavirus tonight.
I think I need to stop writing for this evening.
I’m really sorry for being such a downer tonight. I am trying to find my Hope. (Pats pockets. Looks around blankly.) Maybe I left it in my other clothes.
Tigger – as disgusted and taken aback as I feel Photo: L. Weikel
Taken Aback
I had a conversation late this afternoon that completely surprised me. I was so taken aback, as a matter of fact, that I did not fully comprehend what was being said to me in the moment. As a result, I failed to respond the way I think I wish I had.
Let me set the scene:
At the grocery store today, I ran into a friend whom I haven’t seen in probably two or three months. We’re both wearing masks, of course. We exchanged pleasantries and inquired about each other’s families.
As conversations are wont to go nowadays, we drifted to the pandemic and mused over whether we’ll ever really and truly get to a point where we can live entirely ‘mask-free’ again. We didn’t describe it that way. It was more a vague wondering on both our parts whether things would ever really and truly go back to the way they were. Both of us expressed a deep sadness that resigning ourselves to a new normal may be what we have to do, but it won’t be without deep sadness.
The Surprise
It was at this point that the conversation took a turn that I definitely did not see coming. She told me that her daughter had taken her five year old grandson to his pediatrician the other day for his well-checkup. It just so happened that the boy woke that day with a slight sore throat. Hmm.
They went to the doctor’s office and, sure enough, the boy was running a slight fever.
When the doctor came into the examining room, he told the boy’s mom that he was not going to test the child. She should just take him home and keep an eye on him. If he got worse, she should bring him in again.
When I asked why they didn’t test him, she told me the doctor said, “Most children and healthy adults don’t get sick with Covid. It’s nothing to worry about. The numbers are being exaggerated by too much testing and they’re being all conflated.”
I was stunned.
A pediatrician said this?
My friend concluded our conversation with, “So they came home and sure enough, the next day he felt completely fine.” As if this proved what? That the boy doesn’t have the virus? Have they not been paying any attention to the way this virus can manifest?
What I Was Thinking
My mind was boggled. In that moment, I could almost literally feel the gears in my brain getting stuck, backing up, and trying to re-engage along a completely different track. Not knowing for sure where her daughter lived, I asked if this was a local pediatrician. Sure enough, he practices in the Lehigh Valley.
I am still somewhat reeling from this revelation. This was a five year old. Why in the world would this pediatrician NOT test this kid – when he was exhibiting symptoms?! I’ve been thinking about this over and over again all evening (hence the reason why I decided to just sit down and write about it).
This kid could easily be spreading it. Who’s to say the whole family doesn’t have it and maybe most of them are asymptomatic? What if my friend, who is a few years older than I am (thus in her 60s) catches it? And I’m not even saying that the kid has it or doesn’t.
My point is: Why in the world would a physician NOT order a test, particularly when the child shows up with symptoms? This is a kid who is kindergarten age! I didn’t ask, but I do wonder whether the plan is for him to go to school whenever it starts…?
Upshot
I regret that I didn’t speak up and question the wisdom of not having the child tested. Then again – would that be my place? And what would that have accomplished? The deed was done, or rather – not done.
I wish I had defended the need for MORE testing – not LESS. I am feeling freaked out that a person I consider intelligent and practical would actually express skepticism over ‘the accuracy of the numbers.’
I definitely was taken aback by this conversation – and now I’m feeling more than a little bit of despair.
Yes, by the time this post is read by any of you, August 2020 will be here. We will be seven full months into the cataclysmic year of 2020 and embarking upon month number eight.
Who amongst us isn’t freaking excited by the prospects? Huh? Come on. I know I can’t be the only one on the edge of my seat with anticipation over what revelations and curveballs await us this month?
Glad to See July End
Don’t get me wrong. I’m the last person to challenge worse. But I have to tell you: this last day of July has been a rough one. I’ll almost certainly write about what made today particularly discomfiting for me, but I have to sleep on it and assess the damage tomorrow.
But it’s not looking good.
Let’s just say the wild, torrential rain that accompanied some excellent thunder and lightning last night took an unexpected toll.
Biodiversity Project
I might as well use this opportunity to remind everyone that tomorrow is, indeed, the first of August. That means it’s time once again to lend your energy and intention to the Perelandra Biodiversity Project, which I’ve been encouraging participation in for well over a year now. (And just so it’s clear: I have no financial interest in Perelandra. I do not get a single penny for my enthusiasm. I simply love the concept and the sincere dedication of the organization and its founder to promoting our conscious partnership with Nature.)
This process, using Essence of Perelandra, is incredibly simple and quick. The whole procedure from start to finish takes no more than five minutes. And the loveliest part about it, in my opinion, besides the potential for fulfilling the overarching intention of restoring balance and harmony between all living things on your land or in your space, is the simple act of bringing awareness to the land on which you live.
Whenever I open Sacred Space, I specifically include and ‘call in’ the Spirits of the Place where I am doing the ceremony or engaging in sacred work. As a species, we’ve grown more and more oblivious to the sentience of anything other than other humans. Some people acknowledge the sentience of animals (especially their pets), but fewer and fewer still consider wild animals, insects, or plants as having a form of consciousness. It’s extremely rare for anyone outside of our brothers and sisters who retain their indigenous roots and connections to accord the land – and Mother Earth herself – sentience.
So beyond the explicit intention of restoring and healing the balance of diversity ‘in our own back yards’ that the Biodiversity Project fosters, I personally love the awareness it brings to each of us who engage in it. In the midst of these chaotic, uncertain, and oftentimes frightening times, engaging in this process asks us to simply STOP for five minutes and BE with where we are. It asks us to acknowledge our interconnectedness with All That Is. And it’s so incredibly simple and easy.
Simple – Like Wearing a Mask
The ease with which we might make an enormous difference in the energetic balance of our environment (including the environment within our own selves) by doing this simple process is akin to the huge difference the simple act of wearing a mask can make in protecting all of us and contributing to stopping the spread of the Coronavirus.
I guess I’m left wondering why we resist engaging in little steps that very possibly could make a humongous difference in the trajectory of our existence here on Earth. Are we afraid they won’t work and we’ll look foolish? If they don’t work, and we all die or the Earth becomes so out of balance that climate change inundates us (and kills us all in other ways besides the current pandeminc) to whom will we look foolish?
Community
Another significant benefit to engaging in the Biodiversity Project is knowing that I’m joining people all over the world in a collective and sincere effort to make things just a little bit better. I love envisioning the web of interconnected love and caring that is established when I contemplate our united efforts.
As August arrives, if you have a bottle of Essence of Perelandra, join me. Read the instructions here and take a moment – at any time during the 1st day of the month – to help reclaim balance and healing for us all. We’re all connected. What benefits one benefits all.
If you don’t have a bottle of Essence of Perelandra – order one for September 1st. Goodness knows, I’m sure we’ll need more and more intentions set for balance and healing by then.
And although I’m sure I don’t need to say it, I will say it anyway: Wear a mask. For you. For me. For us.
I had a really hard time focusing today. I’m not quite sure what it was. It was hot out – and muggy – but it wasn’t nearly as oppressive today as it was last week. As indolent as we felt, Karl and I struggled to finally drag ourselves out for a walk this evening, but didn’t actually manage to get ourselves out the door until a bit later than usual. I’m so glad we went when we did, though, because we encountered this fabulous Wind Goddess along the way.
Doesn’t she look like she’s flying across the sky, long hair streaming behind her? I think she was trying to cool things off a little bit as the sun sank below the horizon. But maybe the cooling off was more metaphorical than literal?
This month is turning out to be as volatile as both the astrology and numerology would have us expect. Yes, the roadmaps are all pointing to the same thing: dramatic upheaval and a resurgence of the virus, as the alignments that were occurring when the Coronavirus started spreading here in the U.S. are actually reoccurring, bringing the lessons learned (and not learned) home to roost. Believe it or not, this is probably the calm before the storm.
Expand My Horizons
I’ve been trying my best lately to skirt the massive elephants in the room. Let me tell you, that is not an easy task.
It’s hard not to talk about everything that’s happening before our eyes. The pandemic, the social justice and Black Lives Matter movements, the deployment of secret police by our national government in an effort to create photo-ops for campaign material, the use of tear gas by these armed nationals on our own fellow citizens. The list is far longer than this, as I know you are well aware.
Given the difficulty I’m finding in talking about other things, it’s become clear to me that I need to expand my horizons. I just re-read that sentence and had to chuckle at myself. Here I am, trying to maintain what essentially comes down to a self-quarantine (or close to it) and I’m musing about expanding my horizons. How oxymoronic is that?
I need to sign off now and read my book. Sometimes, we all need to just escape for a while.
Perhaps instead of cooler weather the Wind Goddess is bringing in some new ideas and musings for me to explore. Let’s hope.
I don’t know about you, but between the relentless heat and mugginess that’s blanketing us (if you live on the East Coast of the U.S.) and the relentless and increasingly horrifying events unfolding in our country on a daily basis, I feel like I’ve reached my saturation point. So when I asked the Ocean Oracle (by Susan Marte) for a fresh message we could all hold as a new Point of Focus, I chose what feels like another perfect pick (PP).
As can be seen from the photo above, I chose Fog – Stillness.
Why do I feel this is a PP? Because I am finding it increasingly difficult to continue ‘going with the Flow.’ Don’t get me wrong. There’s no doubt that keeping Flow as a Point of Focus in my daily life has served me well. And it’s not even as though I intend to just throw Flow out the window.
No. If I sense Flow is an appropriate response to a particular situation or stimulus, I will continue to embrace its wisdom. (And I have to mention, Karl and I were amazed at how often, since I chose that card for our collective contemplation, the word flow has shown up in the Medicine Cards* I’ve been selecting on my day, as well as tarot cards I’ve been consistently choosing in our early evening walks.
I’ve been receiving, “Flow, flow, flow” over and over again. So yes, this message has been received and reinforced.
Recent Escalations
And if you’ve been joining me each day or at least mostly keeping up, you know that the guidance we’ve been receiving from other oracles (The Crone Tarot, by Ellen Lorenzi-Prince for instance) has also been pretty consistently advising to come together to recall wholeness, goodness and caring.
While I can only speak for myself, and I probably need to bear in mind that I’m still a bit sleep-deprived, I feel it’s important to acknowledge that making the conscious choice to remain in the flow, and do our best to heed the call to encourage wholeness and goodness while in the midst of a pandemic – is no small feat. While it sounds relaxing and easy, it’s actually a lot of work.
Yes, we can do our best avoid getting caught up in (or snagged) by the rocks and branches we encounter every day, the fact remains that it takes a lot of energy to keep our heads above water. And over the past couple of days, I started to question just how much more ‘flow’ I’d be able to manage.
Photo: L. Weikel
Dearly Needed Respite
And so it was with a huge sense of relief that I chose the Fog card this evening. Stillness. It feels like the perfect message for me in this moment, and I trust it will offer you some welcome permission to be still too.
I want to share what the guidebook offers:
“The Story
She sat in the hollow, surrounded by fog. She didn’t know which way she had come, or which way to go. The vapour was tangible, but her direction was not. She wasn’t scared – the veil of fog felt safe. She had never realized the stillness of fog, the cloak of silence it offered. She was in her own little world, fully present to herself, yet removed from that which was ‘out there.’ It was a chance to just be – to be in that stillness. She didn’t feel the desire to venture forth without direction. She was happy to have this time to be by herself, hidden from view. She felt this fog was the earth’s way of surrounding her by the nurturing embrace of water, without drowning her. She knew she was strong enough to rely on herself and her intuition, away from the watchful gaze of others. She had faith that when the fog lifted, she would be in the perfect place – in the place she was meant to be.
The Messages
What are you hiding from? What is hidden from view? What is visible? What is invisible? Trust that what you need to see is either right in front of you, or will soon present itself. Focus fully on your self. In the busy-ness of the world, take time to be still, to recharge yourself and recalibrate your bearings. Allow stillness to envelop you and be present to the gifts it offers. Use the cloak of protection stillness provides, to stretch into who you are. Walk the path of your instinct – it will lead you in the right direction. Even when feeling alone or isolated, know that you are completely supported by the universe. She is keeping you safe in your sacred place.”
My Take
The bottom line of guidance I receive from this new Point of Focus is that it is ok for us to step out of the flow and take cover. Wrap ourselves in the cloak of invisibility that Fog provides us and rest in the Stillness.
Before we take a stand or make any decisions about how to react to anything that may be happening in the outside world, the perfect response in this moment is to step back. Recharge. Recalibrate.
Indeed, when we remember that, in addition to witnessing armed troops being deployed by a fanatic to manhandle and essentially kidnap fellow citizens in specifically targeted Democratic cities (nakedly politically motivated by our own president) we are in the midst of a pandemic that is exploding in our country – seems to me the most comforting thing we can do in this moment is cloak ourselves and rest up.
Definitely another ‘Perfect Pick.’
We need to gather our strength for the coming storm. But for now: We must practice Stillness, my friends. Wrap ourselves in a Fog that holds and hides us and permitting us to safely gather our strength and wits for what’s to come.
I was going to title this “There’s the Other Shoe!” or something like that, and then I realized all the crazy destruction of the Rule of Law in our country that’s flagrantly taking place in plain view of us and the rest of the world isn’t ‘THE’ other shoe. It’s just ‘another’ shoe.
Welcome to the apocalyptic Final Five Months. They’re either going to be the final five months of DT’s presidency or the final five months of the United States of America as we know it. And as I mentioned the other night, no matter what happens on election night (just like it didn’t matter how the Supreme Court ruled), if he wins: we lose; if he loses: we lose because he acts out, throws a bomb into the toilet (or worse), refuses to respect the election results, and dares anyone and everyone to remove him from office.
Whoa, Lisa. That’s dire. Aren’t you being just a tad hyperbolic?
No, actually. I don’t think I am.
Not the Half Of It
I sensed this week would be a challenge. The eclipse took place over the weekend, and it just felt to me as though it was going to kick off a month of unprecedented revelations and discoveries of corruption and rot throughout this Administration beyond our worst fears – including its malignant enablers in both Houses, but especially the Senate.
Sadly, I don’t think we’ve seen the half of it yet. (Then again, to be fair, it’s not even been a full week since the eclipse.)
But believe it or not, I’m trying to rein myself in. I’m trying to refrain from gaming out the repercussions of DT’s commutation of Roger Stone’s sentence and the effects it will have to the bigger picture.
I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that DT did this, tonight, when we also received confirmation that the number of positive Coronavirus cases in one single day in our country topped 70,000 tonight, too. In case you’re keeping track, only one week ago we were horrified that there were more than 50,000 positive cases diagnosed in one day.
These are daily cases. Over 70,000 people tested positive today. And our president just commuted the sentence of a man who said out loud just today (when requesting a commutation) that he deserved it because he resisted providing evidence of the president’s complicity in a crime.
Step Back – Re-think
I chose cards a few days ago requesting guidance on how we might want to view and respond to whatever unfolded this week. As you might recall, I chose Stingray – Flow the first night, and then followed up in the next post with Jellyfish – Hidden Gifts and Sea Glass -Transformation.
Choosing the Flow card was in itself a comfort. In some ways, every moment I deliberately chose to go with the flow and not worry over “What ifs” provided my nervous system with opportunities to remain peaceful, which in turn kept me centered and even hopeful every now and then.
The Hidden Gifts and Transformation cards were the ones I chose specifically for guidance on dealing with DT’s reaction to the Supreme Court’s ruling on his tax return cases, so it feels incumbent upon me to actively resurrect them in our consciousness.
There are hidden gifts in the blatant erosion of the Rule of Law. Our country is being threatened from within in a way that rivals anything in our just-shy-of 250 years, with the possible exception of the Civil War – and it may even, pardon the irony, eclipse that.
Hope
But my eyes keep going back to a couple sentences in the accompanying text to The Ocean Oracle, in ‘The Story’ of the Sea Glass:
“(…) She thought of the journey the glass before her had taken, how these pieces were all parts of something else at one time. A bowl, a jar, a bottle – some sort of vessel. And how these vessels had been abandoned. Or lost, or broken; left to the rhythms of nature, broken down over time. And she thought of the forces which had shaped the sea glass in front of her – forces which broke down the original structure by pummeling, pulverizing, caressing into a shape which was softer, translucent, and more adept at change. (…)” (emphasis added)
I want to hold on to hope that our country and everything we stand for will, in the coming days, grow more translucent and adept at change as we face, head-on, the gifts that are hidden in the egregious behavior and neglect that’s being perpetrated on us and our system of government every day. Every day there seems to be another shoe dropping. Please let us discover the hidden gifts they reveal that lead to a transformation that benefits us all.
I’ve been finding the last several days’ posts harder than usual to write. I find myself wishing for something entertaining or thoughtful to flow from my fingertips onto the keyboard, but not many words seem to have heard the call. Or if they’ve heard the call, they’re declining to volunteer for duty.
I’ve been limiting myself to mostly reading headlines and trying to stay away from my phone more generally.
Relishing the liminal moments of the day when fireflies and bats come out to play, we often don’t eat until close to 9:00 p.m.
The State of Things
I’m finding the state of our country increasingly upsetting. I’m horrified at the accuracy with which everything that’s unfolding in the South and the West was predicted. None of the surges in positive cases can come as a surprise to anyone who’s been paying attention. The crisis that New York and New Jersey faced in March and April were not because those states are dirty or crowded or governed by a Democrat.
I can only speak for myself, of course, but I find myself wanting to scream at these people who were very clearly sitting in judgment on New York and New Jersey a few months ago only to find themselves in an even worse predicament because they failed to prepare. They thought they were immune.
So much for the immunity of hubris.
Share Some Beauty
Instead of railing on these things, I’d rather share some photos from our walk tonight. The one at the top made me feel as though we’re still being protected. It reminded me of a giant hawk flying over us, wings outspread to protect us, again, like I’ve been taught to protect others at a Sacred Fire.
The other is simply a finger-painted sunset.
It feels especially important that we drink deeply of the beauty while we can.
Peanuts with an olive oil chaser – yum! Photo: L. Weikel
Peanut Gallery
I’m definitely getting trained. While I can’t say that I’ve totally got this down yet, since I pretty much need to get harangued every morning before I spring into action, I feel I’m at least becoming a bit more responsive to the demands of my peanut gallery.
And I actually think they take turns. Some mornings it’s the blue jays who glare at me, issuing forth an ear piercing shriek is I manage to ignore their dirty looks as they hop from one branch to another.
Other days it’s my grackles. They snag my attention by visiting in groups of five or six at a time. They swoop in and land on the empty peanut coil causing it to clatter against the wrought iron post that also proffers two conventional feeders filled with sunflower seeds. Black oil, no less. Only the best for my buds.
While the grackles and blue jays will reluctantly consume sunflower seeds, it is quite obvious that their preference is peanuts. And it goes without saying that all the woodpeckers that hang around near our home also do their best to deplete the resources, including their cousins, the nuthatches.
For a couple weeks, the fish crows had moved back into the avian neighborhood. Their distinctive grokking voices could be heard taunting each other high in the ash and maple trees that were just beginning to leaf out. They, too, knew of the legendary Weikel peanut dispensary and would visit frequently.
Inspecting the coil – Photo: L. Weikel
Feeding My Face – and Theirs
As I wrote about a couple of times in April and May, I simply had to confess my utter helplessness to stop binge-eating peanuts in response to the stress of this pandemic and its effect on my emotions. But I promise you: I would not be compulsively feeding my face with peanuts if I didn’t have bags of them set aside for my birds (and yes, even the squirrels).
It’s because of my dedication to my creatures that I have these stupid peanuts around my house, tempting me. But I’ve discovered something else. If I went by the demand in my yard, I could literally blow through a three pound bag of roasted peanuts every single day. And that’s without my help anymore!
But come to find out: one person’s loss is another critter’s bonanza. Check this out.
I just might be doing my fellow (peanut planting) Americans a service. Apparently there’s a glut of the prized Virginia peanuts on the market due to the suspension of major and minor league baseball. I didn’t realize bagged peanuts in the shell are a huge source of munching pleasure enjoyed by baseball aficionados.
As a result of discovering the plight of peanut farmers due to the Coronavirus, I now have a newfound appreciation for just what my patriotic duty could entail. Three pounds a day. I can do it.
And I know I have a lot of support for that strategy in the yard as well.
Grackles cracking open peanuts on the driveway – Photo: L. Weikel
