The New Normal 2.1 (featuring Busy)

 

https://bodyliterature.com/2020/01/27/karen-greenbaum-maya-5/

B O D Y  is an estimable journal published out of Prague. Yes, that Prague. I am honored to have placed several pieces there over the years.

Busy

French bees are dying, she tells me. Not because of big Agro pushing its products, threatening finance interruptus, the short-term win killing the long-term love. The bees are dying because the Chinese have planted killer bees that lay their eggs in the French bees. Like mantises they behead, like termites they eat wood, like wasps they colonize from within the good-hearted worker bee herself.   

Oh, these Chinese bees. They’re aggressive as South American bees and twice times the size. Easily they kill the French bees. A single smear of their honey leaves you braindead but unable to stop consuming Chinese imports. There you go, buying twice what you need. There are bees flying all over the blossoming trees, cherry and quince, even willows and camellias, but she knows the bees are dying, just going through the motions.

 She can tell the Chinese ladybugs from the French. The vulgar Chinese are gaudy with too many dots. The French ladybugs are subtly accented with two, at most four, asymmetrical for interest. Chinese ladybugs adapt quickly. They do not care about tradition. They undersell the French ladybugs and take over their turf. You’d think there would be enough for all, aphids being what they are, but no. Oh no.

Not to Complain, but Complaining

Behold, an act of God. Last night we had hard winds, gusts up to 80 mph. For comparison, a Category 1 hurricane achieves speeds between 74 and 95 mph. I am not the only one in my community to have trees or parts of trees blowing over. This Italian cypress, unfortunately, came right up out of the ground and landed mostly in my neighbors' yard and on their roof. 

As it happens, these are the neighbors whose Tesla solar roof sends excruciatingly bright glare into my house ten months out of the year, running all along my west-facing wall. I've managed to mitigate said glare by installing ceramic film on all the windows and sliding glass doors. They had seemed amenable to paying some part of it, then apparently decided that I was harassing them and ordered me never to contact them again. Well, goodness. These are the folks whose kids hugged me when they saw me, and to whom I sent fresh-baked goodies. I had hoped we might remain civil but had to give up on that.

Well. Now, the tree lies on their roof, a pine of Rome. I suspect they are not home, as I have heard nothing from them, which suis me fine. Friends and my insurance company tell me that each person is responsible only for their own damage, a relief to me. I will incur $2000 for the deductible, thanks to the pipes that broke two years ago and flooded/destroyed half the house. 

Now I wait to be contacted by my insurance company's designated contractor. Apparently, there are 25 people ahead of me, so far. I had called an arborist I'd used in the past, but 1) he won't be available for two weeks, and 2) his truck now bears the message, "Democrats Are Destroying America." I'd rather not support him anymore.

This debacle follows bills of $2000 to the veterinarian for my cat, who attacked a possum and lost, of $4800 for corroded pipes, which repair included digging up half the front lawn, and, a bill for $8000 for bringing the electrical system up to code (and installing a new main switch, as the old one had frozen). 

I'm feeling beaten up by these acts of God. I had been in the middle of a major re-write qua reorganization of my manuscript of poems about my late husband, and I was making progress, though not without struggle. Looks like time to take a break for something hard in the outer world.