Buckthorn Vigilante

Just two outings permitted to me--and the best is seeing our baby granddaughter. I prepare with a mask, gloves, frequent handwashing and I avoid touching her hands or face. Her parents are working so she has a certain amount of exposure but she's not going to get Coronavirus from me.

I'm also expanding my Citizen Pruner activities to solo trips. Mud Lake Park is just a few blocks from here and it's suffering from buckthorn invasion and aggressive grapevine pulling down the tops of the viable trees. Plus, trash and deadwood to pull out. The Boy Scouts built a path several years ago but it's getting overgrown, and the park layout is rustic and heavily wooded. Since I can't go to the gym, this serves as my exercise and an opportunity for some planning. If I rip out the buckthorn roots and all, we're done. But disturbing that much soil makes a playground for buckthorn seeds and other invasives. So I'm cutting low to the ground and repeating frequently as new sprouts emerge.

I seldom meet anyone at the park, which is the ideal for me. But last week while I was talking with a friend on my phone using my earbuds, I was on the ground savagely slashing with my Japanese saw/knife and I saw someone from the corner of my eye. He was wary--not worried as much about Corona virus as some crazy lady with a knife muttering and crawling on the ground. He flattened against the fence and kept much more than 6 feet away from me.

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Empty Mall of America

Here's a lifetime experience: an empty Mall of America. No cars in the ramps; echoing, empty space overlooking a few American Red Cross volunteers who manage the blood donors in the mall's north lobby. When we scheduled our donations, we were instructed to wear masks or we would be issued masks. Volunteers guided me through the process: show us your RapidPass reservation. Clean your hands. Now show us your donor card. Oops, you touched your phone, time to sanitize hands again. The staff were vigilant; they sanitized anything that touched me--the blood pressure cuff, the table that I leaned on, the chair I sat on. And honestly? I valued the opportunity to get out of the house on a legitimate, sanctioned trip and would happily go donate weekly if that was an option.

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Herd behavior strikes

Monday, March 16 Today was our first official day of mindfully staying isolated at home and it was very boring until 7 pm when Jack came over to "shop" from our pantry. The grocery stores were cleaned out, he said. Empty shelves. No milk. No meat except prime steak. "So sad," I said. "Help yourself; we have plenty." "And now that they're closing the liquor stores..." "!! The liquor stores! Why would they do that?!" Don't know, he said, just look it up online, message from the governor, starting tomorrow. I didn't look it up, jumped in the car and made like a bat out of hell for Total Wine. We were running low in several categories and I'd been meaning to go. The store certainly looked like the last day. Parking lot was packed, lots of people pushing full carts holding grimly to the cart handle with antibacterial tissues. One guy was talking on his phone, coordinating with his wife at Costco to pick ...

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