Dear Sunday Letter friends,
Happy last Sunday of August. What?? Yep. Craziness. I agree there is still much to learn about coronavirus, but one thing I believe (in this world where conspiracy theories are all the rage)—coronavirus makes time weird. Either molasses slow or quick as a snap.
Sometimes both in the same day.
I suppose a hurricane passing through Central Arkansas during rice harvest is par for the course for 2020. I hope the crops survived this latest weather trauma. The timing probably couldn’t be much worse.
And now another weather system is passing through; I can see lightning all around this morning.
Laura gave us stunning sunrises and sunsets, but we barely received a sprinkle all week. While so much of the mid-South is under water, we’ve been dragging the water hose around, giving our parched potted plants long drinks.
I’m not complaining (well maybe a little bit). This time of year, 93 degrees starts to feel like the surface of the sun unless I’m at the lake.
I’m not at the lake.
New roofs are popping up all over our neighborhood thanks to spring hail damage. Since Wednesday, our new roof is being installed. As you might imagine, it has been VERY LOUD at our house. The crew works from 7 am to 7 pm (or later). Though I’m not at the lake, I’m grateful not to be on our roof.
The guys who do this for a living have mad skills!
Our roof is steep.
Apologies to our neighbors, especially those trying to work and school from home. Friday afternoon’s hammering came with a free, very spirited boombox concert. And to those trying to sleep in on Saturday morning, sorry…the early bird catches the worm and all.
Our job is almost finished, but there’s still probably one more day of work. As much as I want this project to be over, I hope they don’t work on Sunday. (Besides, lightning…)
It may sound silly, but I’ve been worried over our shrubs and flowers. As the damaged ceiling tiles fall to the ground, I worry over where they land. I hope the noise doesn’t affect the chrysalises in hidden away places, transforming along with the racket. But mostly I’m grateful to have a roof over our heads. And insurance to cover the majority of the cost of a new one.
The circumstance is clear to me. While we will soon have the protection of a solid new roof, many families have no place to call home, everything lost in the most recent hurricane or in the heartbreaking wildfires or due to job loss or sickness. Many have no idea how they will put the next meal on the table.
Yes, my inconveniences like loud noise and a broken milkweed stem amount to nothing compared to those in the midst of true turmoil and trauma.
This is a reminder to myself: keep things in perspective.
P.S. I have to point out this is the same roof two national insurance companies wouldn’t insure because they said it was too FLAT. (The sections above the porches is rather flat, but still!)
Annabelle + Noise
How’s Annabelle doing living in all this hubbub?
If you know her, you know she is very sensitive to loud noises. Especially unexpected ones, like the woodpecker who hammers on our chimney from time to time. She hates the crinkled sound an empty water bottle makes if accidentally squeezed. Loud cheering while watching a sporting event on television will send up upstairs to hide.
Surprisingly, she’s doing pretty well with guys walking all around our windows, both upstairs and down, the loud hammering, the jarring thuds that make the entire house tremble. We’ve been going on extra walks, just to spend time away from the house. Yes, we’ve been getting our steps in this week for sure.
But I think she’s ready for it to be over too.
Speaking of jarring and shaking and trembling, northeast Arkansas experienced another earthquake last night. 3.8 according to the news I’ve read.
If I had to guess, 2020 will be the year of the big earthquake everyone back home has been expecting since I was a kid.
Anyone want to lay odds?
Things Momma Says:
I accidentally walked 316 steps today.
See you next time, Sunday Letter friends.
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.