Some wonderful, untranslatable words for now:

Imaqqaa (Greenlandic) means “I would love to do that, and if the weather permits, I will.” Greenland is notorious for its unpredictable weather, so this word is extremely fitting to the environment.( Here too, I think.)

Meraki (Greek) roughly translates into “pouring yourself wholeheartedly into something,” like cooking. To do something with soul, creativity, and love. (Good word for this time.)

Komorebi (Japanese) beneath towering cedar trees. ( I will substitute my redwoods.)

Vacilando (Spanish) is similar to “traveling,” with the important distinction that “the experience itself is more important than the destination.” (Even when only taking a walking around the yard while leaning on a stick.)

La de la vergüenza (Spanish) means “the one of the embarrassment.” It’s often used to denote the last bit of food left on a shared plate that no one wants to take. (Not an issue recently.)

Havâ do nafaras (Farsi) literally means “the weather is for two people,” but refers to misty, chilly weather that is perfect for romantic walks with your loved one. (Longing for such a time.)

Poronkusema (Finnish) the literal, though humorous, meaning is “the distance a reindeer can comfortably travel before taking a bathroom break.”

Ke garne? (Nepali) this question translates to “what to do,” but is more like “that’s life”—a mix of acceptance and resignation. ( I’m beginning to think being resigned right just be acceptable during this time.)

Zirimiri (Basque) refers to a soft but constant rain that is pretty typical for the Basque Country. (I’m going to use this one a lot.)

All ya’ll know I like to be as positive as possible about this place and how much I love it. I do. Really. But you have to be committed — and probably have a trust fund — to maintain an old house.

Last month, it was an $800 plumbing bill. This month, what’s failing (except for this old body) is outside.

Two of my three beloved birches are dead from the bronze birch borer infestation and the third is half dead.

Arborist will be here tomorrow. If he recommends taking them all down, I’m going to try to convince him that the smallest redwood out back can be transplanted here.

And John will be over tomorrow too to shore up my failing alley fence.

And the ancient raised beds.

Elizabeth sent seeds from her last summer garden in Montana and I am eager to plant beets, sunflowers, and squashes in the former asparagus bed. Good soil, enriched with homemade compost.

A tiny town way up in the northeast corner of California has decided to open up, contrary to state guidelines. A resident of Alturas said, “Tex would never say it’s OK to be out in public if he didn’t truly feel it in his heart,” referring to Sheriff Tex Dowdy. I may be bigoted, but I would have a hard time putting my trust in someone named Tex Dowdy.

Tra la, it’s May, the lusty Month of May
That lovely month when everyone goes blissfully astray
Tra la, it’s here, that shocking time of year
When tons of wicked little thoughts merrily appear.

The flowers in trees in my town definitely got the message. All gloriously abloom. Especially the dogwoods. And it’s so quiet out there with minimal traffic that I can hear lots of birds. Watched a huge crow trying to eat from my suet feeder while two scrub jays dived bombed him. That was quite a dance.

As for me, I am not dancing to the oldies right now with this annoying torn meniscus. Or walking the dogs. Luckily, they have the huge backyard to play in.

Big excitement for me today. The hospital can start doing non-emergency clinic procedures. I’ll be going in for my previously-mentioned decennial colonoscopy. I am so looking forward to being in the backseat of Susan’s car as she taxis me there and back again. She is a faithful online Scrabble opponent for me, but there’s no human contact there.

_________________________________________________________________

Okay. Back from that penetrating experience. Went well. Procedure is nothing. Prep, not so much. Just so happy to be home.

Got the new printer all configured by myself, but had to call on my tech guy to help me get it to operate remotely. I thought I should be able to figure that out, but when I saw what he did — he can meet almost all my needs from his home or office — I realized that it was was, in fact, not in my skill set. Glad to once again be able to print out the NY Times crossword.

And my dear neighbor across the street saw Susan bring me home and me get myself in using a stick. She texted and asked what I needed. I said “company.” so she and I have been texting all afternoon in-between her rising two young boys and caring for her dad who came here to convalesce from surgery. We are now acquainted better than we might ever have been trying to catch a few words face to face.

Back to my dance theme, I am remembering May Day at St. Matthew’s Episcopal school and beautiful little girls dancing around the maypole, winding the colorful ribbons round and round. One eighth-grade girl was voted May Queen. She wore a wreath of white flowers on her head which she then placed on a statue of the BVM. It was lovely. Of course, much of that celebration has gone by the by. Too sexist, too making one girl win a popularity contest. I think there is still a maypole dance, not this year, of course, and all the different classes presented little choreographed numbers. There were three-legged races and such.

I think in some countries, the first of May is sort of a labor day. In that regard, some 2000 people have checked “interested in attending” a rally tomorrow in the capitol mall expressing their desire to get back to work. The governor said on TV that she respects First Amendment rights, but that she and the congress will not be in Salem, still hunkering down. She hopes all who attend will keep their distance.

Cinco de Mayo is coming right up. I so wish I could go to Roasted Chile’s in Kihei for a big bowl of Posole. I will probably go with a Tex-Mex chili pie at home. I need to add the ingredients to my pick-up list at Freddy’s tomorrow.