Posts Tagged 'changes'

It’s been a year, or more….

photo of a pink lenten rose in a brown vase.

And the news media is writing about looking back on the pandemic and I just … can’t.

Yes, friends and family of mine have been getting vaccines (this is a good first step). We’re taking the slow first steps of at least one family member being able to physically see people in another state. That’s great.

I’m still here, looking at how beautiful the garden is, and thinking of the people who genuinely got lost. Some to illnesses that are unrelated, yet inextricably linked because the funeral was online and only a few people could attend. (How do you grieve during a funeral if you have to hold the camera steady?) Some to unknown causes, disappeared without a news announcement.

I’ve also been looking at the garden and thinking the many beautiful milestones have happened, even if they were remote. Birthdays via FaceTime, or held over fence walls. Weddings attended online. Celebrations for elders who got their full vaccinations (online as well).

I’m not sure how to be joyful when the news is filled with suffering and grief forestalled. I’m not sure how to grieve, when a grief is unrelated to the big mass event that is still ongoing. I’m not sure how to exchange dread for hope, when I see teens and college students strolling through my neighborhood without their masks. As though an airborne illness can’t touch privilege.

It’s been a year, and there’s hope in my heart. But that’s not all. Wishing you all safety, health, cats and joy.

February – October

2020 has felt alienating, strange, and bizarre. From the cold/flu in the new year, to losing a cat, to the whole world sliding into a pandemic… if I could whack 2020 with a restraining order, I’d be down at the courthouse now. If the courthouse was open…

Due to the reduction in commuting, singing, and visiting with friends, there has been knitting. I’ve finished large projects (secrets until Christmas). I started Katie’s Kep for a distanced knitalong (link to the free pattern on the Shetland Wool Week website), I finished a baby knit for an auction for the chorus, and I am about a quarter of the way done with the artisan’s vest. There has been home maintenance (window caulking — very glamorous), as well as (dishwasher-adjacent) swearing.

I’m trying not to count the year’s markers that were missed because choruses can’t sing safely and families can’t meet up. I had the joy of attending a remote wedding over the computer. That was a first. I had the sorrow of attending a funeral over F*cebook. That also was a first.

I’ve attended cat church in pajamas, drinking coffee and singing along from home while using a cat toy to distract the cat congregants. I’ve become quite fond of cat church — I’ll be sad when it isn’t available. In summer and fall there have been conferences, meetings, classes, and family gatherings online. I had one in-person outing, to vote early in the election. Other than that, I only go for walks or visit the grocery store as briefly as possible.

Thanksgiving and Christmas are going to be hard on many people. When the alternative might harm the people you love — or co-workers or children’s parents — I’m hoping more people will choose to say “no”.

Counting months

Timex watch next to a tiny flowering plant on a pebble planting bed.

While in this holding pattern, the world keeps shifting. I drove to the post office (the first time in 2 months) so that I could drop off my vote. Voting by mail is new, but positive — less stress, and no gauntlet of people to pass.

In 2 months,

  • A grade school was torn down, explaining the ever present, mysterious truck sounds and construction noise.
  • Several storefronts have shuttered.
  • The post office is again a hub of activity.
  • People are (mostly) wearing masks to shop.
  • The USA is in a cycle of protest (my heart is with the protestors, and here’s a link to student coverage of the protests).

The natural world offers daily surprises in the yard. An amaryllis we forgot last winter is blooming, our roses are more beautiful than ever, and poison ivy (boo) has come up from underneath the reclining chair in the yard. I go out for evening walks, to avoid groups of people and the sun. It’s lovely to wave at people in their yards as I admire the sunset.

So how about you? How are you marking the last days of spring sliding into summer?

States of Flux

Change is in the wind. Family members are downsizing, which means we are downsizing our expectations of where we go for holidays. Although it may also mean opening up our lives and our home to be the “place” where people come for the holidays.

I think it will take a while for me and The Gardener to process that. Not to mention organizing our lives and the rooms in the house so we can feel confident inviting people over for dinner.


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