Blue funk with yellow

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My forsythia is in bloom, along with one daffodil, and the four yellow crocus that got moved from my back garden to the front parkway and somehow haven’t yet wilted. Today’s garden is all yellow.

I can’t extract any hidden meaning from that, just a coincidence. And while I try to plan variety into my garden, it’s just a fact that an abundance of spring blooms are yellow. “Why that is” is a rabbit hole I might slide down in a minute or two, but for now I’m content to enjoy these scattered bits of color and the insistent calling of a robin to my left and a cardinal to my right as I sit on my front porch.

It’s only about 40 degrees F, and there’s not much world passing by right now—an occasional walker or bicyclist, sometimes a car at the intersection a block away. The neighborhood isn’t just social distancing today; it’s mostly huddled inside trying to stay warm. I did that this morning and found myself headed toward a blue funk, so we grabbed the dog leashes and got outside. Pups exhausted, we now sit quietly on the porch, reviving our spirits and lungs with fresh air.

Yesterday was warm enough (low 60s?) to open up the windows and let fresh air into the house, which is a spring treat. I often crack open a bedroom window at night even in early and late winter, but being able to open the windows wide and let in a breeze is a blessing after a long winter—perhaps even more so now that I’m working from home and don’t get as much fresh air in the morning and afternoon.

These are all small condolences, of course, and I would trade them all—the enjoyment of them, anyway—to have this horrible disease go away and know that my loved ones and I and total strangers the world over could feel safe. I’m seeking out this calm moment because inside I’m a roiling mess of anxiety, and I know that I’m one of the lucky ones. Able to work from home, with the company and care of a spouse I love, I owe my comfort and safety to those who’re going out into the world and facing this menace on my behalf. They include family, friends, and strangers, and I worry for them and am angry at a government that has done little to protect them.

Hug the ones you love. Pray for everyone. Try to stay safe.

Baking therapy

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I believe I might have entered the baking stage of coping. When I made my Pi Day pie back on my first day of social distancing, I was carrying out an annual tradition unrelated to our current situation. I would have made that pie in normal times. Granted, my husband and I might not have eaten it all by ourselves, but…

A week or so ago, when I made chicken pot pie for dinner, that also didn’t count. That pie was just a normal dinner. I already had the filling in the freezer, waiting for a crust.

Even when I made cookies last week, they were a treat that didn’t feel like a pattern. Now, I think they might have been the beginning of one. Yesterday I made cheese scones. And with a birthday coming up in our household—and yes, we will have a party!—when I made the grocery list that included evaporated milk and coconut for German chocolate cake frosting, I told my husband at the last minute to get extra evaporated milk so I’d have the makings for macaroons.

There are two of us in this household, and I don’t think sharing baked goods with neighbors is an approved social distancing activity (though if you know the answer and it is, please let me know). So that’s a lot of baked goods needing to be consumed. And in my mind, I’m all ready to make more cheese scones the minute the current batch runs out.

This is either stress baking or sublimating. Or are those the same?

Goal setting

I didn’t actually write down goals yesterday, but I did have them in the back of my head throughout the day. I did alright—washed a bit of laundry, made those scones, wrote part of a blog post for Escape into Life—maybe most of one, but it doesn’t feel right yet, so I’m unsure. Also I determined that we don’t seem to have fishing line, which I want for a particular creative project, so now it’s on the same shopping list with the building supplies for the new raised garden bed I’ve been planning since last fall. Today’s goals include one for the husband: order those supplies. Mine look something like this:

  • Dog walk
  • Exercise walk
  • Poetry or other reading
  • Clean towels
  • Stretch goal: Finish that blog post
  • Photo a day, of course

Photo of the day

I’m a day behind in sharing, so here’s one from each of the last two days. In the first, I was focused on the doorway, which intrigued me because of the lighting; the cat was a bonus and maybe my favorite part of the picture.

This one shows Rolo’s newest habit: leaving the ball on the window ledge where she needs it in her mouth as a pacifier when she growls and shakes at other dogs. Apparently she’s grown tired of having to run through the house desperately looking for it when she sees a dog coming.

Ruminating on a peaceful morn

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Books and poetry and a long-ago vacation

Reading is a temporal affair, isn’t it? Temporal in the sense of time, not place. The reader’s mind connects with the writer’s and, as with conversation, time matters. What I think today will be different from what I think tomorrow; what interests me changes from moment to moment, even more so from day to day or month to month. So whether a book grabs me (or a poem or essay) is as much about my own mind space while reading as it is about the quality of the writing. Nick Hornby used to make that point regularly in his “Stuff I’ve Been Reading” columns; he wouldn’t write about books he put down or didn’t like because he knew that he was part of the reading equation and didn’t think it fair to criticize the author.

This morning I pulled two small books of William Blake poems out of my bookcase, books that I apparently picked up in a Bangor, Maine, book store on vacation years ago (maybe 10?). They must have really resonated with me at the time—I bought two, after all—but rereading Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience over my morning coffee today left me ready for something else. A couple of pieces resonated, but nothing that would have moved me to buy the book. (To be fair, I suspect it was Blake’s Selected Poems that moved me more in that Bangor bookstore. I’ll probably look through it later today to see how I respond.)

What did move me today was a piece shared on Escape into Life’s Facebook page: a therapist’s advice turned into poetry: “An Anarchist Quaker’s Prayer to Soothe Anxiety.” I’m also reading a lot of Billy Collins and Maya Angelou and Mary Oliver these days. Is anyone else having trouble settling into a novel or non-fiction book? I don’t seem to have the focus for even the best novel these days, probably a result of underlying anxiety that I’m not much noticing otherwise. Poetry generally seems to be where my head is right now.

RIP Bookmarc’s

Finding the bookmark from Maine made me look up the bookstore to see how it’s doing these days. I’m sorry to report that Bookmarc’s went out of business a couple years back when its owner (unsurprisingly named…Marc) decided to retire. Its website is gone, but the Bangor Daily News informs me that Marc was planning to set up a booth in a local antique market, so I’m hopeful his longtime patrons are still able to find him.

I’m always sad to see an independent bookstore close down. I’ve spent many joyful hours of discovery in small bookstores all over the country, and they are among my favorite places—right up there with libraries. I can peruse tables and shelves happily in any bookstore, but a shop whose owners and staff offer recommendations and favorites and mini-reviews is a special treasure. I’m pleased to report that my community has several independent bookstores, both large and small. I have a favorite, but you might find me in any of them.

On Memory Lane

That Bookmarc’s bookmark has me remembering that lovely trip to Maine—the only time I’ve been there, and believe me I want to go back. What I remember most are the lighthouses, the oddest little Airbnb we’ve ever stayed at (but absolutely enjoyed—it came with farm-fresh eggs stocked in our little refrigerator every day!), fresh air and family hikes, lobster and blueberry pie, and the discovery of blueberry beer. All happy memories, and I might be inspired to dig up some of the photos later today to share in a separate post.

First, though, my report on yesterday, with lots of photos.

Goals, photos of the day

Yesterday was almost a lost day for personal achievement. I was so very tired, worked a full day on two hours’ sleep, and probably came close to achieving none of my personal goals. I saved it, though, by deciding I needed at least a short walk before bed. Two miles later, I arrived back home after a trip through our local park that I realized I needed because it had been a couple of weeks since I was in any kind of green space. I had my camera with me, and photo-a-day turned into several shots I’m not embarrassed to share. The park was restorative, restful, beautiful, and just what I needed. My goals today:

  • Letter to a friend, not just a postcard
  • Create something
  • Cleaning and laundry
  • Photo a day
  • Dog walk, weather permitting
  • A nice dinner, ordered in, with my husband and maybe some friends (virtually, of course)

And here are those photos. It was wet in the park between rain showers, and the tree branches and buds and berries glistened in the light. I really can’t decide what shots I like best. (Bonus shot of Tank at the bottom.)

Mostly photos, not much sleep

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Yesterday was garbage day. Life goes on.

I’ve heard from friends who are having trouble sleeping, and now I’m one of them. I’m uncertain why. The possibilities are numerous, and of course they include the difficulties of the world—these are extraordinary and trying times. But they also include working too hard and eating ice cream too close to bedtime. And I have occasional bouts of insomnia in normal times as well, so who’s to know?

Whatever the case, I got about two hours of sleep last night. On the bright side, I don’t need to drive to work.

Insert smiley-face emoji here.

I’m too tired to find and add the emoji, but coffee is brewing and Rolo has awakened with me, so it’s not all bleakness.

Glory days

One of the many social engagement games floating around the Internet is the question, “When this is all over, what will you never take for granted again?” My honest answer, I think, is hygiene; my approach to cleanliness has always been…lax, but I suspect those days are gone. I’m not saying my house will be spotless, but the nearly hourly ritual of washing my hands might already have changed me forever.

My first serious thought, though, when I heard this question a few days ago, was “Baseball.” Yesterday would have been opening day. In years past, I would have been at Comiskey Park, rain or shine, cold or warm (and believe me, cold and rainy was not uncommon). In recent years I’ve gotten either wiser or less intrepid and begun watching the season’s first game with friends in a pub. Wherever I am, it’s an annual ritual.

This year, of course, is different. There’s no joy in Mudville because Mighty Casey can’t pick up a bat. Earlier this week, the husband and I pulled out our 15-year-old DVD set of the White Sox’s 2005 postseason and began watching. It’s a very different experience when you already know the outcome, but we’re having fun. All of the players are long-gone now, and we’re reliving happy times with them. I’ve never watched sports reruns on television, and I don’t think I’m going to start, but a once-in-a-lifetime World Series championship? I’m in.

I read a lovely poem about opening day yesterday that someone shared in a closed Facebook group. I can’t link to it it here—closed group and all—but it reminded me that I wasn’t the only person missing this annual celebration. That was helpful. Still, poetry can’t replace baseball. I’m looking forward to sitting again in the open air for three straight hours, with nothing to do other than watch people chase after a little white ball.

Goal setting

I’m too tired to care much about goals, but I do believe they’re helping me keep from stagnating in this extended period of isolation, so here’s my reckoning from yesterday: I’m giving myself a score of 4 out of 6. I didn’t manage to write to a friend, and while I spent extended time with my husband, and even with friends via FaceTime, I think I was wound so tightly from work that the term “quality” just can’t apply. So my goals are very modest today—or, rather, highly prioritized:

  • Sleep when I need to
  • Engage socially with one friend
  • Walk the dogs if weather allows (rain in the forecast)
  • Read a poem
  • Photo a day

Photo of the day

Once again, I took several photos yesterday. I’m too tired to choose the winner, so you do it: Rolo sheltering in place, or a shy friend I saw on my walk:

Political action in place

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Yesterday, my husband and I put stamps on 200 postcards we wrote urging voters in Wisconsin to get out and vote (or stay in and vote if they can!) in that state’s April 7 primary. I’m a bit of two minds about this now, when I know how important it is to maintain social distance. But voting is, to me, both a right and a responsibility.

The last public place I went was to my polls two weeks ago, and I went after I already had cloistered myself at home in every other circumstance. I went as early in the day as possible (to avoid crowds), voted mostly with my gloves on, and still used hand sanitizer when I was done. But I went, and I voted, because my opinion matters and my vote counts. The presidential nominating process might be effectively over (though still not sure what the Democratic convention will look like), but down-ticket races matter, too—in some ways, I think, they matter more, because my single vote is even more important there and because local candidates go on to run for state and federal offices later.

So yesterday my husband went to the Post Office (early, separated by at least 6 feet from other patrons, and assisted by hand sanitizer) to get our post card stamps for the cards that I wrote two weeks ago. They’ll go in the mail today or tomorrow (more hand sanitizer) and wing their way toward their registered-voter recipients. It gave me pleasure to sign up to write them, and pleasure when I finished the job, and I anticipate it will give me pleasure to drop them into a post box and know I’ve done something I consider valuable.

All politics is local, and in my house it happens sometimes at the dining room table.

Reconnecting personally, too—not all politics!

Also at the dining room table, I wrote and addressed a postcard yesterday to a friend, the first of many hand-written notes I hope to write while sheltering in place. I used to write long letters to friends and relatives, back in the days before mobile-phone packages and email became ubiquitous (I’m sooo old!), and I remember enjoying it. It’s a writing process not unlike any other, and I think it helps focus me in the moment and free my mind to think rather than ramble or flicker. My next letter will be, I think, either to a long-lost friend from college days or a cousin in Sweden, both of whom I’ want very much to renew contact with.

Meanwhile, I work long hours and try to make time and mind space to read. Mostly I’ve been reading poetry because it helps to center me and I’m having trouble focusing on book-length prose, possibly a sign of underlying anxiety. I’ve been reading Billy Collins and Mary Oliver, primarily, but also poems that come my way on Twitter and by email. If you have a poem I might read, send me a link in the comments or on social media; I’ll appreciate that.

Goal setting

I did well with yesterday’s goals—check, check, check on every one! Here are today’s:

  • Photo a day
  • Mail the postcards
  • Write to another friend
  • Reach out to a different specific friend for a specific reason that is personal and has no place here
  • Walk the dogs
  • Quality time with my husband

That lists feels pretty modest, and I have some stretch goals as well, including creating, dinner with a friend via FaceTime if I can knock off work on time, and exercise. But since I can’t fully control the length of my workday, I’m trying to be realistic.

Photo of the day

Rolo, pretending to be a much younger dog.

Reading and writing in isolation

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Also, Spring!

Reading…

I recorded and shared my first #InternationalPoetryCircle poem yesterday. I chose a poem from the book I’m reading currently, Mary Oliver’s Dream Work, which I think I bought during my last trip to the bookstore—back when I didn’t know how long it would be before I could return again. I pre-ordered a book that day, and I regret that I didn’t get in to pick it up in the week or so between when it was released and when I started social distancing in earnest.

Now, I miss my library and book store terribly, even while I have an enormous pile of unread books at home. To be honest, I have several large piles, scattered throughout the house.

If there are silver linings to our current situation—and I believe we have to look for silver linings because they help stave off despair—surely one of them is the imperative to read some of these unread books. I’m first working my way through the handful of library books I had at home when the library closed down. Then I plan to tap into my own lending library, a.k.a. those piles of books.

Debbie Downer here: This squirrel carcass showed up on the roof outside my home office window yesterday. It’s mostly flat but appeared from nowhere. Explanation? Dropped by a predator? Froze on a higher roof and fell off? It’s a mystery at my house.

In between poems I’ve just started Doris Lessing’s The Cleft, one of my library books. It’s a faux history that in its early pages has raised fascinating questions about the origins of men vs. women. Think of a time when only one gender existed, and the other suddenly appeared, and that’s where Lessing’s book starts. The Christian tale of creation tells us man was created first, and woman from him, but Lessing posits the opposite and explores what might have been the thoughts and feelings of women and men when the second gender appeared.

I’ve just started the book, really, so that’s all I have to offer at this point, except tp say I’m intrigued and have enjoyed Lessing’s work before so am eager to spend more time with this tale.

…and writing

I’ve started a couple of poems during this isolation, and published one (Pi Day, over at Headline Poetry & Press), but this blog has prompted, and houses, the bulk of what I’ve written outside of work. I’m starting a new project, though, to write postcards or letters to the people I care about. I read yesterday that the Post Office is under serious threat of being closed down by summer with so little mail being sent out because of COVID-19. We need the Post Office to help keep us connected always, and to support mail-in voting both for the remaining spring primaries and in November if this pandemic lingers as I fear it will. So I’m seizing the opportunity to reconnect with loved ones both near and far. That leads me, of course, to today’s goals, as this will be one of them.

Goal setting

First, my performance on yesterday’s goals:

  • Photo of the day—check
  • Read poetry—check
  • Record a poem to share with others—check
  • Dog walk and exercise walk—check
  • This blog post—check
  • Figure out if I need to go to the Post Office to purchase stamps—check
  • Dinner with friends via FaceTime if I’m able to quit work on time—worked late
  • Check the status of my seed order—check(ed) and reordered

Today? More modest:

  • Read a poem for #InternationalPoetryCircle
  • Photo of the day
  • Get those stamps (task delegated to the husband, who is our designated shopper)
  • Start putting stamps on voter postcards
  • Write to at least one person
  • Dog walk

exercise walk is an important stretch goal, along with enjoy the sunshine (hope it lasts). Since it’s a workday, an added goal is to work well, so I’m off to do that now, ending this post quite abruptly, but not before…

Photo of the day

I actually took quite a few photos that I was happy with yesterday, including everything shown in this post. Here are two. The first one I like aesthetically, just a shadow on the sidewalk:

This one is my real choice for Photo of the Day because it’s the message I want to leave everyone with: