Parade
April 25, 2020
It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon in a week of mostly rainy, cold and damp weather. Lucky day for the “parade.” Parade? Yes. I don’t know who initiated it or when the idea took off, but by April 25th most of the town knew it would take place. I only knew it was related to how much we felt the need to thank those who were giving so much of themselves during the Coronavirus.
People along Blood Street had been attaching red hearts on or near their mailboxes, some with “thank you” notes, over the last few weeks. The message was: thank you for all you do to protect us. The parade was to run through Lyme, Salem, and East Haddam, adjoining towns. I thought that meant people would be marching, but it turned out it was a motorcade—fire trucks, ambulances and other town vehicles. Residents were expected to stand along the roads and cheer. And that’s just what happened.
The anticipated time the procession would start off in Lyme, before continuing to the other two towns, was 3:30 PM. Neighbors had hung up flags and other decorations. As the hour approached, I put together two notes of thanks with cardboard and red magic marker that I attached to our mailbox at the end of our driveway. I asked Herb to hang out our American flag on the side of the house. We set up two chairs at the end of our driveway to await the caravan. A little before 3:30 our neighbors assembled on their properties near the road. We exchanged smiles, waves and some conversation from afar. Then we began to hear noise getting louder by the minute, indicating the arrival of the procession. It was amazingly impressive and exciting. A cacophony of sirens and horns were blaring. Men and women volunteers waved exuberantly as they drove by. I banged on and shook a tambourine I had (from a basket of musical toys I had assembled for my grandkids when they were young) and waved enthusiastically. The people being honored seemed very pleased by the reception.
After the long noisy convoy had passed, Carlene, my neighbor across the street, and I exchanged thoughts about how moved we had been. It is a precious gift to be a part of a community that appreciates the volunteers who give so much of themselves to others— and to be with those who care enough to come out and honor them.
Phyllis Ross

Bread

On Monday March 27 at 5:45 our son in San Francisco called. Normally he would text us and include pictures of his latest creation, but not this time. The grocery store shelves were empty. The spot where King Arthur once stood was bare. No usual text with pictures of beautiful sourdough bread, warm, straight out of the oven, his latest bread-making attempt.

What is a parent to do? Seed wheat is not easy to find. I had already depleted the Norwich Agway of all its seed-potatoes and knew they wouldn’t have any seed. I turned to the one that understands my needs, Amazon.com. On Thursday April 16 at 11:00 am a package with two 5 lb bags of Power-Grow wheatgrass was delivered.  The label showed 5 happy children playing under trees.

On Sunday the 19th, in the early morning, Betsey and I drove to the 1600 sq feet of land I had prepared for the Lyme wheat field. Coming from a long line of farmers and after watching a YouTube of a British accountant growing wheat at a community garden, we felt confident. While I made furrows with a hoe, Betsey carefully sowed making sure the seeds were evenly spaced. Within a week the seeds germinated and soon we could see rows of young wheat.

Everything was going so well; the plants were now 2 feet high with a nice head. And then the rains came. The wheat began to turn moldy and some even black. Friends from the Midwest had no advice. This was bad. We learned about ergot. Very hot and humid weather followed and things got worse. Barnyard grass moved in and soon there was no wheat to be found.

On Wednesday, August 26, I took the walk-behind mower and leveled the crop.  No sourdough bread from this land this year, but there were 2 packages in that delivery and there is always next year ….

Jos Könst