今年最漂亮的一串小枇杷，也是幸存於塑料盒中：

早上從樓上隔著紗窗拍到的：

Entering May one day, Em heard over the radio that the covid-19 public health emergency and national state of emergency are officially declared to be over. Delighted at the news but worried that the full return to workplace may one day required by the company, Em wishes that the current hybrid working mode could persist.  An alternating two days in the office and three days working from home is the best combination to her. With three days working at home, her mornings are never hectic, as she could log in her computer in her night robe.  When it comes to downtime at work, she could even work from bed.  She normally takes about half an hour nap at noon, but of course if the job asks for overtime, she would work late into the night too.  If pandemic ever did anything positive, it is the change of palpable life style and work style. In her mid-50s, she is no longer career-oriented; her enthusiasm ebbs as the aging creeps upon.  Showing up in the office twice a week however spices up her boring life.  Some watercooler moments in the office kitchen, face- to- face interactions with the old co-workers are delightful, connecting her to the outside world.  

It is another typical day working from home, as Em put on her jacket and sat at the desk next to the window. It is almost June, but the weather this year is unusually cold and gloomy. She opened the window to let in the crisp air and zipped up her jacket. Then peering out the window, she scoured the leafy loquat tree in the backyard for any squirrel.  The community this year is so infested with squirrels that their presence arouses disquiet in Em’s mind. Her sound sleep is irritably disrupted in the early mornings by the rustling sound from the backyard, or the alarming wind chime Em purposely hung on the tree.  Several times, half asleep, she sprinted from the bed to the window, to check if it’s a squirrel again that made the sound, and unfailingly she would see a furry- tailed squirrel shakily crushing its body over the branch lunging for the loquats. Em would shush forcecibly, her right palm slapping hard against the window sill. However penetrating the sound may be, the emboldened squirrel would not be scared. It would quickly slip down to the wall nearby and stare at her, defiantly.  Pulling up her pants, Em would rush downstairs, open the door, take a broom and swoop it up in the air.  Only then would the squirrel run away, but Em knows that it would soon come back.

As the only fruit tree in the backyard, the loquat tree is like an apple in Em’s eye.  This year however, from the time the loquat started fruiting last autumn, Em’s expectations wane and wax.  Aware of the squirrels in the area, Em prepares early-- fruit bags were purchased from Temu, netted bags and paper bags were collected, and up onto a tall ladder she laboriously wrapped the fruit - -but all to no avail. Bags, nylon or paper, are torn apart, and almost every day the ground and the wall are littered with the loquat pits and remnants, some still green and unripe.

And they would have all gone if Em did not have the three days working from home.  On the days Em works from home, she would sit at the desk in front of the window and be watchful, like a farmer watching over the ripening watermelon in the stories she read in her childhood.   But even so, in the month-long battle, however sensitive and detective her eyes and ears are trained by then, the loquats on the tree diminish in a downward spiral. To keep the last few clusters at bay, Em resorted to her friend’s suggestion of using plastic boxes to contain them.

Em’s husband however frowned upon the idea, as he saw what he called junkie plastic boxes strewn over the tree.  As he failed to dissuade Em, he joined her in the discussion of finding effective ways to deter squirrels, jokingly broaching the topic of an AI invention which would fly up and hover around whenever the squirrel appears.

Em couldn’t wait for the loquat season to end!