yards and yards

I went to a wedding reception at Yards yesterday, hitching a ride with neighbors also in attendance. The ceremony happened a few years ago, this was a belated moment to celebrate and congregate after the confounds of life and COVID. The couple mentioned how many guests they hadn't seen since before the pandemic, which included myself. They reaffirmed their commitments to each other and shared a slice of their coupled self.

I joined a tour of the brewery. The guide said they're currently operating at 20% capacity in this relatively new space, running on wind power and solar panels that were installed on the roof during the pandemic slowdown. We ended in the cold room and got to see the kegs and tap lines running up to the room where we were partying.

The sign outside the elevator claimed three people could ride at a time, though the sticker inside set the limit at two. The rated load is 1400 pounds, which I took to mean our average weight per person must have dropped from 700 to 467 pounds, a testament to the walking we've all been doing in these apocalyptic times. I heeded all the signs, including the call to be patient with the elevator, then exercised patience again in an adrenaline fueled game of jenga that capped off the afternoon.

I woke up with a case of the Mondays, depleted from a beerful weekend of catching up and connecting with friends and neighbors. We had breakfast then went for a walk that took us back to the Wissahickon, into which we shed the sluggishness.

The baffle arrived so I attached that to the pole in the backyard when we returned. Having that additional boundary with the squirrels, I finally filled the larger feeder again.