Palmer’s Penstemon
We walked in Forest Park. At noon, it was already warming up. As the summer arrives, we’ll have to start getting out earlier than this. We drove to the edge of the park, walked across Skinker, and braved a dual path crossing, with their many runners, walkers and cyclists. Then we were on the golf course, with its wide open fairways, empty greens and unused tees, but this won’t last long.
On the way back, I first spied a golf cart on the links. It wasn’t one of the rentals, but rather a maintenance one. Later, along one of the cart trails there was a new yard sign. It hadn’t been there before, when we had first passed this way. On it were the new rules that will govern the course’s reopening. One person per cart, people one outstretched club apart, at all times, two strikes and you are out.
There goes the neighborhood. No word on when the golf course will reopen, but it will be soon and with its reopening gone will be its wide open spaces, at least for us. Other attractions are also moving to reopen. The largest draw in the park, the zoo has announced its plans. It will still be free as always, but it is going to institute a reservation system, to keep the crowds down. When the zoo reopens, I suspect that the closed roads that lead to it will reopen. When that happens, there will go the second half of our safely socially distant walking regimen. I imagine that the museums will follow suit and everything will be back to where it was before all of this began, except that the virus will still be present.
Trending on Twitter this morning was a short movie of a massive pool party at the Lake of the Ozarks, in mid-Missouri. The venue was packed with wall-to-wall covidiots, partying like there is no tomorrow. Closer to home, just up the block, preparations for a party were also underway yesterday, for a party today. Two guys, who always throw the most elaborate looking of yard parties, are not going to let a little pandemic get in their way this year either. They worked all day putting up their decorations. This year’s theme is “Under the Sea.” I even wangled an invite, much to Anne’s horror. We won’t be attending, but I might attempt a drive by, just to witness the bacchanalia from afar. I can already hear the crashing sound of the second wave all around me.