San Francisco, California
We’re still in the season of first blooms. This, for example, is the first agapanthus to send its heavy, stalky flower up and out above abundant leaves. The plant reminds me of day lilies back in Minnesota both in shape and its willingness to to suffer any abuse. Dig up a thick chunk of bulbs, leave them sitting on the path for a few days, remember eventually to stick them into another corner of the garden, and they will grow and bloom, given a little sun (our starter roots came from just such an abandoned pile in Sausalito). Agapanthus is such an easy and satisfying filler, you see the graceful fountain of dark green leaves all over the city. What you rarely see is a city-wide purple bloom. Even in our garden, each agapanthus blooms at a different time, giving us graceful spots of color from April to September and sometimes through the fall. I have no idea why, unless it’s related to when the bulbs were first put in the ground.
I think you can see the pandemic metaphor coming at you. The past few days have seen a rolling roster of re-openings that are confusing, to say the least. I don’t even know anymore what’s open in the state of California, though our mayor remains blessedly conservative and consistent. A New York Times editorial this morning reports that 80% of Americans think the openings are too soon; they are willing, they say, to stay inside at least another month; some 30% are open to another six months to keep everybody safe. Meanwhile, surveyed scientific experts and economists agree that it is too soon and predict not only re-ignition of the virus, but a failed attempt to revitalize the economy: “Who wants to be the guinea pig who tests how dangerous going to a crowded restaurant still is?”
So who are the 20% that think this is a good idea, and how is it they have so much sway? A short, collective political attention span? The lack of a careful, cohesive national plan? Unwillingness to invest in real measures that would make us safer faster? Yes, all of the above. AND people’s legitimate fear of what will happen to their families if they don’t get back to work. I get it. But I’m scared for all of us. Today seems less safe to me than yesterday did, and the next days and weeks will continue to become more threatening. As one who’s vulnerable, I dread the confusion, risk and fear that will accompany the random openings to follow.
I took this agapanthus picture over a week ago and today, already, the bloom is past its prime. But that's OK. I’ll gladly wait for the next ones to arrive.