bucolic scenes

The back yard

 Bucolic, while the rest of the world is chaotic. As a journalist, I usually ran toward trouble. But when the virus struck, I ran away. And now this. Cities in tumult. It's so disheartening to be fighting the same battles we did in the '60s and to think there has been so little change. Except now we have Russian bots, the true outside agitators.
    I am afraid that what with the virus and the violence, the cities are once again down the tubes. I remember what New York was like when I moved there in 1973. Zeroland. Cars stolen on my doorstep. Needles in the parks. Muggings common. Doors barred and triple locked in my building. I am afraid that it will be like that again.
    Even before Covid-19, retail was dying, and Broadway was lined with empty storefronts. The only street life has been around restaurants, and many of them are now finished. And while I was cool with living on a dystopian frontier when I was in my 20s, I wouldn't care for it now. The good news is that when the millionaires move out, New York City may have room for artists once again.
    But I have always felt that I needed a bolt hole. Block Island could serve, except that I have no heat here, and the ocean is threatening to wash over me. So I got the Goose, which has heat (and AC!). Yes, we have a bit of a flooding and tornado problem, but, as on Block Island, we have fish and a place to grow a garden and good neighbors who are used to being self-sufficient.
     I have options. I fear for those who don't.

More back yard

The side yard