pandemic

I came across a video filmed in my garden a couple of years ago. It showed the fence that once stood between me and next door—before *that* hideous new one went up. It had a softness to it, really. A lovely tree leaned over the wall, and there was an old shed at the far end—both now gone. As they say, *good fences make good neighbours*, but it seems I’m stuck with this one for now.

I found the video in the downloads of what I’d posted to Facebook. I’ll never be a cameraman, but I suppose they act as a record—snapshots of what’s unfolded over the past five years or so, through the pandemic and everything else. I’m not sure what to do with them, really. Part of me thinks I should just delete them—they do take up space on the computer—but part of me hesitates.

I’d hoped the videos would include ones I uploaded to other sites too, but it looks like I’m only getting the ones from my page. During the pandemic, I shared a few clips of myself singing and playing the guitar. I wouldn’t mind seeing them again. I could go searching online, I suppose. Then again, I’m not sure I *want* to revisit those days. The pandemic was a strange, difficult time. I don’t think we ever truly get over something like that—not those of us who are still here, anyway.

I had someone trim the hedge last year to bring a bit more light into the garden, especially with that ghastly fence now casting shadows. It’s growing back again, of course, but apparently it can't be trimmed until the birds have finished nesting. Finding someone to do it isn’t easy either. Then again, not much is these days.

The older I get, the faster time seems to move—it’s in warp drive right now. I once came up with the idea that if I want time to slow down, maybe I have to speed up. I am not sure if thta would work