This year we planned to lock the front gate and turn off the outside lights on Halloween night. We normally get 80 – 90 trick-or-treaters, but this year with the pandemic, it wasn’t wise to continue the tradition. However, my husband couldn’t resist buying treats for the one family on our block with small children. They made our day by showing up in the best costumes we have seen in a while. Can you guess who they are supposed to be?
In the market today, I overheard a customer asking the clerk if people were honoring the face mask requirement. “Everyone is so done with face masks, and everyone is in a bad mood,” she replied. (In spite of her comments, everyone was wearing a mask, including the clerk.)
The face mask hadn’t bothered me, but I had been in a bad mood for a few days. Things that didn’t help:
Back in the mountains, I took my favorite walk along the river this morning. The forest showed no signs of Covid-19. New life was everywhere.
It took a while to find the wild sweet peas that I remembered from this time last year. They were few and far between on the forest floor, which made them all the more delightful when I spotted a few.
Above, enormous ravens and almost as large crows swooped from tree to tree. As I walked down the path, they called to their cousins up ahead: Beware of the human! They had an uncanny knack of avoiding the camera. I finally managed a fuzzy silhouette from a distance.
Honestly, I mean no harm.
As I retraced my steps, there was fresh scat next to the path, along with the faint scent of bear (similar to skunk, but not as obnoxious). The scat wasn’t there when I passed that way 10 minutes earlier. It was time to get my head out of the clouds and pay attention to my surroundings.
During the Covid-19 pandemic, every sign of spring is precious.
In my courtyard, the plants pictured above survived the winter, including two or three snow storms and temperatures in the upper teens (Fahrenheit). Pictured upper left is my improbable petunia plant. Two summers ago it was an annual. Last summer it thrived as a biennial. This year it promises to thrive as a triennial. I can’t wait to see the pale lavender flowers that bloom in profusion.
Elsewhere, a beloved cousin is cheerfully thriving as she undergoes treatments for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. This post is for you, Sue.