High summer

I love summer. I love warm days, bees and butterflies, sunflowers, and the freedom  of jacketless rambling in deep grass. 

Despite the pandemic and the attempt by fascists to subdue our city, we have summer. 

My social media feeds are full of people with crowd funding campaigns to cover their medical costs as they are treated for the affects of tear gas, impact munitions, and trauma. Mutual aid groups are raising funds to buy gas masks for those who can't afford them. The human spectacle goes on: our passions, our heartbreaks, our foolish mistakes, our quirky ideas persist. Tonight there will be a beach ball protest at the fence where police meet protesters. Sunflowers and thistles reach toward the sun.

Despite a judge's injunction against police and federal agents targeting photographers and press, that targeting continues. I'm grateful for a fine article by Maeve Higgins in the Guardian, pointing out that the people who have long been arresting and manhandling immigrants are now doing the same to protesters. At the height of summer.

Last night highly-trained marksmen hid behind hastily-installed gun ports in a courthouse building to shoot impact munitions at protesters. Fascism intensifies. This summer.