Spring Dreams

 

Officially, spring has been here for weeks and the weather has been erratic.  I suppose that’s what spring is.  We’ve had glorious days, some nearing eighty, and then the following days in the fifties.  This week’s temperatures are forecasted to be cooler than normal, including a couple of chances of frost and one chance of a freeze.  But I am beyond anxious to get on with it, anxious to move plants outside and create some space. 

 I’ve always loved the optimism of spring and my gardening dreams.  Yesterday I had my camera out to take a photo for our granddaughter of the woodpecker who’s been frequenting our birdfeeder.  With so many things in bloom facing the danger of frost this week, I continued to walk and take photos of what’s growing now.  There’s a lot of hope growing here.

 And then of course, the world’s hope is growing too.  While we are yet to have an entire family gathering, we spent Easter afternoon with one of our son’s family.  It was one of the glorious weather days here and we were able to sit outside and bask in it.  Some of us are fully vaccinated, and the rest, (Paul and I included) are waiting on our second dose.  But as it turned out, we did not remain untouched.  Five days after returning to school from spring break, two of our grandchildren tested COVID positive.  We were incredibly lucky; one only had mild symptoms and the other asymptomatic.  And no one else contracted it. 

 I was walking with my daughter and her family the other day.  As we chatted about things they’ve been up to, I realized just how different our lives are.  As a result of the pandemic it’s become normal that Paul and I, at the most, only use the car once a week.  But often it can stretch to nearly two.  I can’t help but wonder if we have become recluses. Also, I wonder how hard will it be to join the world in full again.  Thinking farther, I can honestly say, we aren’t bored.  We apparently are pretty good at keeping ourselves occupied.  That being said, I have found much to keep me busy.  Gardening dreams, and as always, knitting included.  It would also somewhat embarrasses me to say how much time I have spent watching the Derek Chauvin murder trial.  It’s been riveting. 

 I have been drawing and painting a lot to reach my goal to complete something every week.  I’ve also enjoyed several online art lessons.  I’m lucky to have a daughter who is a high school art teacher who can give me much appreciated constructive criticism.  I’ve been posting my efforts on Instagram and Facebook. 

 And I am currently reading my fourth Hemingway book, an equal mix of biographies and his works.  Hemingway was such a favorite of my dad’s I've always found him interesting but oddly had never read him.  I’ve watched all of the wonderful online PBS conversations with Ken Burns, Lynn Novick, and others, in advance of their PBS film.  By the time the film aired, I felt I already had seen a good portion of it from the clips.  But of course, as it turned out, there was so much more.  I can certainly see how he would have been a hero to my dad growing up; “war hero”, an outdoorsman who enjoyed hunting and fishing, not to mention his writing.  But the film reveals so much more. I can’t help wonder what my dad would think.  It’s one of the many discussions I wish my dad was still here to share in.

 Looking forward, I know we'll keep busy.  But I also hope to acknowledge and take it all one day at a time and fully appreciate the season.  And I hope all of your spring hopes and dreams come true too.

Groundhog Day

 

The fact that today is Groundhog Day seems a bit redundant in the age of Covid 19.   Sure, one of the symptoms of retirement is sometimes not being completely sure of what day of the week it is when you first wake up. But mix retirement with winter and then throw in a pandemic and often most days can seem like Groundhog Day.  And while much of the days are routine, recently I made a conscious decision to make a daily effort to do the things that make me happy, breaking up what could turn into a depressing monotony.

Taking photos, working in the greenhouse, daily walks, reading, and writing, drawing and knitting all make a difference.  Also, due to Covid, online lectures, seminars and workshops are abundant.  I attended several in January and have at least one, sometimes more on the calendar for every week in February.  I admit, in normal times I wouldn’t have made the drive to these events.  But now that they are on-line I am taking full advantage.

Currently I’m reading and enjoying Wintering, The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times, by Katherine May.  I’m also reading A Man Called Ove , by Fredrik Backman, for the library book club. I’m only 57 pages in and haven’t made up my mind if I like it or not.  The jury is definitely still out. In January I read The Silence, by Susan Allott and Jackie and Maria by Gill Paul, (which then in turn had me adding Jackie Kennedy biographies to my “to read” list).  I’m next up on the hold list at the library for Caste, The Origins of Our Discontents, by Isabel Wilkerson, who will be giving a zoom talk at the library this month.

I’ve been trying to draw a little bit everyday.  My grandson and I decided to have a drawing exchange.  He picked the subject; Patrick Mahomes, quarterback for the Kansas City Chiefs.  I’m currently working on a drawing of my unmade bed.  My search for drawing subjects has led me to taking more photos.  I’m hoping practice will pay off in both drawing and photography.

On the knitting front, I decided it was high time that I taught myself to knit mittens.  I made a pair for my daughter’s birthday and I’m currently working on a pair for me.  When my other daughter saw what I was working on she also requested a pair.  I’m not completely happy with them.  I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong but they are not quite turning out how I would like them to.

So that’s it.  January 2021 is in the books.  In these weird and let’s face it, frightening times, finding little sources of comfort helps me stay a little more sane.  I think that may be my playbook for 2021.

Where is the path?

 

Over the past few days I have read so many well written articles with opinions on what happened Wednesday, all written by much smarter people than myself.  But still, I can’t remain silent.

 Before Trump, I was never political.  I voted; that’s it.  But in January of 2016 I attended my first local Democratic meeting, just a few days after Trump’s inauguration.  A year later I was the county chair.  There’s a reason I didn’t post much about where I was spending a great deal of my time.  I was afraid of confrontation.  The very same reason I’ve been afraid to put Democratic stickers on my car.  Why advertise a reason for my car to be keyed?

 During the last four years I’ve dealt with Democrats, Republicans, Independents, and Libertarians, as well as folks who refuse to vote because they don’t believe their voice matters.  The biggest lesson I’ve come away with, I have never been able to discuss issues with a Trump supporter.

 It’s not like we didn’t know who Donald Trump was.  There was plenty of evidence before Election Day in 2016.  And still, people supported this man that only stood for policies that would, and eventually did make all of our lives worse.  People voted for him because they believed his lies, most never realizing when he spoke of losers, we the general public were included. 

 Donald Trump was never about making America great, he was about making Donald Trump great. 

 Meanwhile our elected officials, federal and state, who are so afraid of losing a vote, say and do nothing.  In dealings with elected officials in my own state, what they say depends only on who they are speaking to.  “All politics are local” can indeed be a scary statement.  The only goal is to hold on to the seat, failing to put the good of the people before the good of themselves. 

 So now, here we are.  How do we recover, move forward?  More than once I have wondered if I was part of the problem.  I admit my social media feeds have been cleaned out over the past four years.  I have eliminated friends and family members.  I can’t continue to listen when the things they say have been proven to be false time and time again.  And I’ve heard all the excuses other people have made for those I have eliminated. “They can’t help it”, “It’s how they were raised” or “they’re just stuck in their ways”.   To me that’s unacceptable.  From the virus, to racism or the climate, it’s a morality issue.  You are responsible for yourself, to learn and grow, to care about your neighbor, to be tolerant, to be a decent human being.  Because you are wrong, do I have to make myself half wrong so we can meet in the middle? 

I’m ashamed of what my grandchildren have witnessed these past four years, of the legacy they are inheriting.  Make no mistake, I’m tired.  I’m angry.  But I am going to keep fighting.