Valentine's Day

I have been reading about how the Moderna Covid-19 vaccine works.  Unlike most vaccines, it does not contain weakened or inactivated virus.

“It instead contains a small stretch of genetic material known as messenger RNA or mRNA.  It instructs cells in the body to make a small piece of material that looks like a part of the virus. Those bits, in turn, get recognized by the immune system as a foreign invader, and it starts to make antibodies and immune cells that can recognize and neutralize the virus if the vaccinated person ever gets exposed.”

This process is at work already, my immunity building over the next two weeks.  A week or so after we receive the second shot on March 12, we will reach that 90% to 95% protection.  Of course, we still won’t be able to let our guard down as far as face masks and social distancing, but it undoubtedly will make us feel a little better about traveling and staying in motel rooms and perhaps even eating lunch in restaurants – distant memories all!  The alarming graph showing new infections in our country is finally heading downward.

I am thinking about all of this on this Valentine’s Day, which Martha and I are going to celebrate with take-out from a restaurant in Atlantic Beach called On The Rocks, which we have never patronized but which comes highly recommended.  We will have Oceanfront seating here in the condo!  And can listen to whatever kind of music we like, perhaps some nice Dinner Jazz.  We will try to avoid talking about what happened yesterday, when culminating several days of powerful and overwhelming evidence, the U. S. Senate voted to acquit Donald Trump of inciting an insurrection.  It was a foregone conclusion, of course, but I have to think that it accomplished some good by presenting to the public such a clear and irrefutable case against him.  We were also privileged to hear some eloquent and powerful speeches by the House Managers, which no doubt will be remembered in history.

I am an optimistic by nature, and I have to believe that, although he holds sway over most of the Republican Party, Trump’s power will begin to fade now that he is out of office.  Our new President has surrounded himself with competent and intelligent people, and he has distinguished himself throughout the trial by not making any comments about it, instead concentrating on his Covid-relief  package and vaccine distribution.  He is providing the leadership we so desperately need at this time in our history.

And Jill Biden!  Is there anybody other than the most die-hard anti-Biden people (and there are many out there according to what I still see on Facebook) who cannot admire this down-to-earth, intelligent, kind First Lady?  This is the display she erected on the White House lawn this week, her Valentine’s Day message for the nation.

Love.  Kindness.  Unity.  Compassion.  A kind of Messenger RNA to combat the virus of hatred and divisiveness that, while it will surely infect us again and again, may perhaps help us build up some immunity against it.

Politics has absorbed too much of our Sabbatical this winter, as I have said before in this blog.  Now perhaps we can turn the TV off and turn our attention again to practicing gratitude, delighting in the passing of the hours, the coming and going of the tides, the rise and fall of the wind, and the cooing of the Mourning Dove.

Vaccination Day

It was vaccination day, so I set the alarm for 5:00 a.m.  I told Martha later that it felt much like a race morning, when I would set the alarm for an absurdly early hour in anticipation  of the event, as we have in past years here in Atlantic Beach for the Cocoa 5-K, the Havelock 5-K, and the Crystal Coast 10-K and Half Marathon.  The only difference was that I did not have my running clothes meticulously chosen the night before and laid out for the next morning.

I did not sleep well, and I awoke on my own at 4:59,a.m., checked my phone on the bedside table, and cut off the alarm just as it began to ring.  We left the condo in ample time, as we do on race mornings, and arrived at “Race Headquarters” well before our 8:15 appointment time.  Race Headquarters was the old K-Mart building in a shopping center on Arendell, where we were greeted by a team of well-organized and friendly volunteers in a community program that I later learned had resulted in as many as 1500 people being vaccinated.  K-Mart had been out of business for a year or two, and it was the perfect place for Covid vaccines to be administered, with plenty of space for social distancing among the old aisles and merchandise displays now long gone.  There were widely-spaced tables set up where we were directed to sit and complete our “entry forms.”  I had no underlying conditions except being in the 70-and-over age group.  It all went smoothly, and a friendly man about my age asked me to remove my hat so he could take my temperature.  “What is that hat you’re wearing?” he asked, and I told him I had gotten it at the Rocket City Marathon in Huntsville, Alabama, many years ago.  He told me he used to live in Huntsville and we chatted for a bit about that beautiful city, just as I would have at race registration anywhere.

Finally, it was time to line up for the race start, and I sat down at the table to which I was directed for the first of my two Moderna Covid vaccines.  “Oh, that’s cold!” I said, as a friendly woman gave me the shot, and I remembered that this was a vaccine that needed to be stored at about 40 degrees. 

We went from there to the check-out area, where two women gave me a certificate indicating I had received my first vaccine.  “I understand I might need that some day to get on an airplane,” I said, and they agreed.  Then I said, “It’s strange being in this old K-Mart store.  I keep thinking someone’s going to say there’s a Blue Light Special going on!”  One of the women said, “That is your Blue Light Special,” and we laughed together.  I had crossed the finish line.

We waited the requisite 15 minutes in the cool-down area to ensure that neither of us was going into anaphylactic shock, a rare side-effect of the vaccine.  I learned later that two million Americans had been vaccinated on this same day.  Hospitalizations and new cases are on the decline, and I am thankful that we may finally be looking forward to a year of near-normalcy as more and more of us have been vaccinated.  My only side-effect is a little soreness on my shoulder. 

I think I will take a rest day tomorrow.

 

Vaccination Eve

 The latest post from the Carteret County Shore Protection Office website: 

“RANGE B COMPLETED; BEACHFILL CONTINUES ADVANCING WEST.  Weeks Marine continues to make solid progress and has completed dredging the reach known as "Range B" in the Morehead City Harbor, and the concurrent beachfill operations have advanced to "Station 1169+00", which is near where (sic) the east end of the shore parallel road of Club Colony Drive.  Weeks Marine contractors report that, on the morning of February 11, on the dune-top deck in front of a beachfront condo, a tall ungainly-looking individual was sighted practicing a weird Chinese exercise just after sunrise.”

From my perspective, a shadow has been cast over my morning Tai Chi practice.  Instead of the rhythmic, soothing sound of the Atlantic Ocean, two large pipelines now extend along the beach in front of me, while vehicles pass before my eyes east to west, west to east, lights flashing and back-up horns beeping.  A cluster of buildings appeared overnight, a large red metal building where I assume chilled contractors occasionally take shelter and drink hot cups of coffee, and two porta-johns.  The dark mound of “beachfill” continues marching inexorably westward, toward the Oceanana Pier and the Atlantic Beach Circle, and their work has continued throughout the night these past few days.

Yesterday, we drove to The Circle, parked, and walked to Oceanana Pier from the “other” side, and when we reached the pier we could see the advancing wall of beachfill and hear the sounds of bulldozers approaching less than a mile away.  But it was low tide and a beautiful morning to walk on this wide flat beach that, as I have pointed out in past posts, appears to have no need of nourishment whatsoever.

Another shadow has been cast over our Sabbatical here on this winter beach, and that is the trial this week in the U. S. Senate of the impeached Donald Trump for inciting an insurrection.  Didn’t we go through this just a little over a year ago, when the same man now on trial was attempting to extort a “favor” from the President of Ukraine to dig up dirt on the man who now (thankfully) sits in the Oval Office?  We had the TV on most of the day yesterday and today, watching the meticulous presentation by an excellent team of impeachment managers and including harrowing new videos of the events on January 6.  The unfortunate reality is that it is very likely that this vile, corrupt, reprehensible man will be acquitted because of Republicans who no longer believe in anything other than power and money.  It seems like a long time ago when we walked innocently on this wide beach looking for sand dollars and royal sea stars.  But it is always that way, after all:  the struggle to find peace and balance and serenity in the midst of turmoil.

House Manager Jamie Raskin ended his presentation with that uplifting quote from Thomas Paine with which most of us are familiar.

Last night the fog rolled in again from the ocean, and the sunset in the western sky, diffused and gloriously pink, shone through the mist, like a beautiful balm of kindness for us in this time of uncertainty.  The equipment has moved farther west, almost out of earshot, and we can once again hear the sound of the ocean.

This morning I completed my long run, six miles to Fort Macon and back.  The reason I completed my long run on a Thursday morning instead of a Saturday is not because of the weather forecast but because, thanks to Martha’s prompt enrollment on the Carteret County website, we have been notified that we will be receiving the first of our Covid vaccines at 8:15 in the morning.  It will be the Moderna vaccine, and we will receive the second shot a month from now.  It will be a relief to be among the growing number of vaccinated Americans, but we are also anticipating possible side effects, which might include not feeling very much like running six miles for a day or two.  

Twelve red roses are in a vase behind me as I post to this blog, given to Martha to mark the 43^rd anniversary of our first date in 1978.  I am so thankful that our roads crossed so providentially on that February day so long ago!  It never ceases to astonish me how one’s life can change so suddenly and profoundly, in a moment, in a single evening, when suddenly you realize you have met your soul mate.  I might have predicted a day or two after that date that we would be together for the rest of our lives.  But I never would have predicted all of the other milestones along the path that we have taken together – moving to Highlands, raising a daughter.  And never would I have predicted that 43 years after that date we would be driving to the old K-Mart building on Arendell Avenue in Morehead City to be vaccinated against a virus that has killed nearly half-a-million people in a global pandemic.

Great First Month of the Project

I have continued to consult with interest the Carteret County Shore Protection Office website for updates on the beach nourishment project, now alarmingly close to the condo.  Yesterday’s update indicated the project is now about one-third completed.  381,324 cubic yards have been dredged, from areas farther out on the ocean when weather permits, or in the inlet as we saw on Wednesday.  “The fill density on the beach is close to 80 cubic yards/linear foot,” the CCSPO congratulated itself.  “Great first month of the project!”

While I am amazed as the technological feat of this project and awed at the bulldozers hard at work on the beach, it is definitely having some negative impacts for us.  For one thing, the crews are working long hours.  Last night I kept awaking during the night and hearing them still at work, with bright lights shining and the loud beep beep beep every time one of them backed up.  At 4:00 a.m. I dug out some earplugs.  This morning, I went down to the dune-top deck and discovered that the big mushrooming plume was right outside the condo, bulldozers pushing it out into the surf itself.

 I walked down the beach in the opposite direction, toward the Oceanana Pier, and found the beach littered with an unusual amount of weird debris.

It made me wonder if all of this was being carried through the pipeline from Beaufort Inlet.  It also made me wonder, not for the first time, if the main objective of the project was the dredging portion rather than the beach “nourishment” portion, and this formerly pristine beach was merely a convenient place to dump all the dredged sand.  It had seemed wide and flat and well-nourished enough before the project  began.  A few puzzled gulls were waddling along, wondering what kind of marine life had been washed up.

Someone had built a remarkably ambitious sandcastle just down the beach a little way.  Most of it remained, its turrets topped with shells and a big whelk screwed down onto a platform, although its ramparts were already succumbing to the incoming tide.  But the contractors for this fragile, ephemeral little structure had already knocked off for the day, and there was nobody else on the beach but me, collar pulled up against the stiff breeze, hands shoved deep in my pockets.

Exciting Dinners

We have a joke between us.  “I’m cooking tonight; shall I disconnect the smoke alarm?” I will ask.  The smoke alarm in question is five feet from the kitchen, and sometimes it begins its insistent beep at the slightest provocation, like a few weeks ago while Martha doing nothing more than getting a good sear on some sautéed scallops.  Opening the front door and the balcony door will make it stop quickly enough, that cool north wind flooding in.  It adds some excitement to cooking dinner.  I took a turn at cooking one day last month and actually made it go off twice – a two-alarm dinner!

Tuesday night, it was Martha’s turn, and she prepared panko-and-parmesan encrusted flounder, roasted carrots, and couscous (delicious!).  The smoke alarm did not go off, but when it was almost time to plate.  I went out on the balcony and heard some sirens somewhere in the distance.  We sat down to dinner, but we heard the sounds of loud engines out front, so I went out to investigate  There were two fire trucks parked just outside, lights flashing.  Our concerns were dispelled when I leaned over the railing and asked one of the firemen if everything was OK.  “An alarm went off and we’re just checking it,” he said.  That was even more exciting than a two-alarm dinner!  

A peculiar and unsettling incident occurred yesterday.  Just as we were preparing to leave for an afternoon hike at Fort Macon - emerging from our burrow, as it were - Martha noticed a helicopter out over the ocean.  “Look,” she said, “It’s just hovering in the same place!”  While we watched through our binoculars, a figure descended on a line from the helicopter toward the surface.  There was a small fishing boat a hundred feet away.  Had somebody fallen overboard in a life jacket?  The figure ascended, then descended again.  Perhaps it was just a drill, a training exercise for the Coast Guard for rescues at sea, and we hope so.  The wind was blowing pretty hard and that ocean looked cold enough for hypothermia to set in quickly.  I took a photo of the distant helicopter but it was not a good one.  Sometimes I wish my little iPhone was equipped with a telephoto lens.

We had a good hike, taking the salt marsh portion of the Elliott Coues Nature Trail where we were sheltered from the wind.  On our return to the fort, we found that the J. S. Chatry was out in the inlet, just opposite the parking lot.  Tugboats were nudging it into place, and there were long floating pipelines connecting to the beach. 

It still amazes me that silt can be pumped such a distance.  The project at our end is now clearly visible from the balcony – in a day or two they will be past the condo, heading toward The Circle, a mile-and-a-half away.  I measured the distance from where we saw the dredge to the condo using Google Maps, and the distance is at least two-and-a-half miles.

I offered to cook again tonight, a new recipe.  It will involve nothing smokier than sautéing some onions and garlic.  Still, I am wondering . . . should I turn off the smoke alarm?

P. S.  I should have turned off the smoke alarm.  Although my white bean, tomato, and shrimp soup was well-received, I set off the smoke alarm three times. A new record!

Groundhog Day

There was bad news this morning for those who believe that a small rodent in Pennsylvania has the ability to predict the severity of the rest of the winter.  Yes, the state’s most famous resident, Punxsutawney Phil, reportedly emerged from his burrow  this snowy Tuesday morning and saw his shadow, which for some reason frightened him back into his burrow, resulting in six more weeks of winter.  

 “Of course there will be six more weeks of winter!” I told myself when I heard this news.  “Especially in Highlands!  It’s only February 2!”  I well remember that our worse blizzard, “The Storm of the Century,” arrived on March 13, 1993.

It was cloudy here this morning, so local Atlantic Beach groundhogs (if any) may have been able to emerge from their burrows and poked their noses unafraid into the stiff north wind, which in turn may have sent them back again, as it did me after my very expeditious walk out onto the dune-top deck for my morning Tai Chi.  From that perch, I could see the lights of three bulldozers working out on the beach as part of the dredging and beach nourishment project that I have written about.  They were very close, and although that north wind carried the sound out to sea this morning, we have been hearing the loud beeping as they back, and push, and back again the dark dredged sand coming out of the end of that long pipeline.  They are already working at 7:00 a.m., and in the evenings we can hear them well after dark, the area where they are working lit by bright lights.  It made me wonder if they work through the night.  Once it starts flowing through the pipeline, can they simply turn it off, like a faucet, and expect it not to come to a halt under the ocean into a stubborn immovable ball of dense silt?

I checked the informative website and found no answer to this question, but I did find that the bulldozers are continuing to make “Nice Progress:”

Weeks Marine and their pipeline dredge, the J. S. Chatry, has made some nice progress the past several days as they continue to address shoaling in Range A of the Harbor during this period of calm seas (despite being accompanied by a near constant mist or rain).  In terms of the concurrent beach nourishment activity, the discharge is located near the Southwinds/A Place at the Beach condominiums area.  Roughly 3,386 linear feet completed; 10,475 linear feet remaining.

I am surprised this $18 million project is still underway in the face of the nation’s grave economic crisis.  It can only be continuing because it was approved long before the Covid-19 pandemic and contracts already awarded.  But the reality is that we will no longer be able to run on the beach at low tide, or walk on the beach as Martha did on Saturday when she collected this bountiful plateful of shells.

But the beach is a living thing, and time and tide will spread out new sand, and wash in new shells, long after we are gone. 

Hallwalking and Other Pastimes

The possibility of snow on Thursday morning was exciting to anticipate, but it never materialized here.  I understand from talking to Martha’s aunt Lizette in Raleigh that it did snow there, however, and was quite lovely, especially for some of the residents in her retirement home who were Florida transplants.  Instead of snow, we braced for more wind, less in the “15 to 25 mph range” and more in the “gusts up to 35 mph” range.  It blew hard all day Thursday and Friday, and was still so strong on Saturday that I waited until that afternoon before completing my six-mile long run to Fort Macon and back.

When the wind blows from the north out here, it can be quite deceptive.  The south-facing balcony will often be sunny enough to persuade you that you could sit out in a chair for awhile, but stepping out into the stairwell dispels that notion immediately.  Sometimes when we dash from the stairwell and slide gratefully into our car parked under the building it is difficult to pull the door closed.  But by Saturday afternoon it had subsided to five mph or so and temperatures in the low 40s felt balmy. 

The subsiding wind and slightly warmer temperatures ushered in a day of rain on Sunday.  Another rainy day at the beach.  Fortunately, we can always find useful pastimes to while away the hours until we can get outside again.

That tall stack of books we brought with us has dwindled, but there is always something to read, and that is how we have been spending the evenings.  Is there a better pastime than reading?  We have unfortunately fallen into a routine of watching the news late every afternoon before replacing it with dinner music.  It is difficult not to be riveted to the continuing drama unfolding every day, mostly the progress of the ambitious Covid Relief Bill proposed by the Biden Administration.  It is nice to return to daily press briefings, and we are impressed with the competent and articulate Jen Psaki and all the other members of Team Biden. 

And then there is the Republican Party, that seems to be in the process of destroying itself and not doing much about it.  Ronald Reagan has been replaced with Marjorie Taylor Greene and her Jewish space lasers – it is unbelievable that she has not yet been expelled.  David Brooks said on PBS this weekend that the party was on fire, and it reminded me of the time years ago when we were in a grocery store in Clayton, Georgia, and heard an employee say over the public address system, “Will the owner of a white Chevrolet come to the front of the store?  Your car is on fire,” and then repeating it with increasing alarm until she finally said, in exasperation, “Please come to the front!  Your car is on fire!!  With flames!!!”  She pronounced it with a broad Georgia accent:  fl-eye-mes!  Republicans, your party is on fire!  With flames!!

Another pastime I have been enjoying is playing my keyboard, which I found providentially in our local thrift store Mountain Findings in Highlands this fall.  It is not at all the same as a piano, but it at least allows me to practice the handful of Bach pieces that I have committed to memory from time to time.  Last year I had gotten so rusty that I nearly forgot part of one of the minuets.

I knew this little minuet from memory, years ago –
Nothing much, only one sharp – but I owned it,
And played it often, marveling at Father Bach
And his lovely symmetries, like a butterfly’s wings

Spread out treble and clef on the page before me.
And then I forgot it, over time, from want of practice
And the business of days gone by, wasted hours.
Now it is coming back to me, bar by bar,

Fingers remembering the familiar harmonies,
The difficult little arpeggios.  In time, I will
Remember it all, and have no need of the page,
As I remember all the forgotten pieces of my life.

I am learning a new minuet on this Sabbatical – because we should not stop learning new things, should we? – picking out the notes slowly like a young child who is just learning to read and has to sound out the words.  I can read music just a little, and often regret that I never continued taking piano lessons from my piano teaching Dad when I was a teenager more inclined to ride my bicycle or read a book than “practice.”

My laptop has not had any sound all month - see post of January 2, wherein I describe my failed attempt to uninstall and reinstall its sound driver to improve the sound quality (the uninstalling worked fine, but the reinstalling did not).  But happily I have now managed to restore it and am enjoying listening to music again with the new earphones that Martha gave me for Christmas.  There are some wonderful recordings now on YouTube by the Netherlands Bach Society.  Is there a better pastime than playing and listening to music?

And when it continues to rain all day, as it did on Sunday, there is always hallwalking.  Martha has done a little of this too.  When the wind is from the south, the hallways of the condo building are sheltered.  I walked down to the first floor, and then the entire length of the hallway, turned the corner to the end, and back again, then climbed rapidly to the second floor and did the same, etc., up to the fifth floor.  Then I came back down again, floor by floor.  Although I had my facemask in my pocket, I did not pass a soul.  I noticed that every unit had a different kind of mat at the front door, most of them nautically themed.  But despite the dozen or so cars parked under the building on this rainy Sunday afternoon, I saw no signs of habitation inside any of the units, not even lights on.  I suppose these winter residents were napping, or in their living rooms watching sports on TV.  Or maybe listening to music or reading.  Or writing in their blogs!

Highlands Hallwalker, waiting for the rain to stop.