I read an article the other day in which the author claimed that we’d all “hit the wall” of the pandemic. You know, like marathon runners often do, just shy of the finish line. Some of the commentors dragged her for her sloppy use of metaphor and others pointed out some fallacies in her analogy. But, after reading social media posts from friends and family, I’m going to go out on a limb and say I think she was right. Or at the very least, made a credible point.
We have hit a wall. No hyperbole. Not even a little bit.
|even Gus is done with winter|
The difference being in a marathon, be it 26.2 or the unimaginable 50 or 100 miles of an ultra, you at least know there IS a finish line. And, you’ve signed on and prepared for the event. Through rigorous training you know your own capabilities, you have a support team in place. And, there is some sort of reward waiting at that finish line.
I can’t imagine trying to run a marathon without any preparation. Yet, that is how we are facing COVID-19.
No one I know expected a global pandemic. Although, after reading Robin Cook’s Outbreak (published in 1987) I paid attention each and every time some strange new illness popped up in the news. I wondered what would happen if fiction ever became reality. We heard tragic reports as the virus made its way around the globe and that first US death February 6, 2020 drove it all home.
I won’t recap the year of shut-downs and cancellations, isolation and fear…I’m sure you can account for all of those yourself. It’s completely understandable that we’re weary and worn and out of sorts, and few have offered any truly viable solutions.
February is hard anyway. (my very personal musing can be found HERE) It’s cold and dark…and despite the hoopla surrounding Punxsutawney Phil’s predictions, (I’d really like to know WHO decided that a groundhog has prognostication powers) Spring always seems too far away.
At least it is pretty...
This year, we’ve had more snow in the 14 days of February than all of last winter. (not saying much, last winter was pretty much a bust) But, I’ve measured nearly 2 feet in our yard over the past two weeks. And, that’s not counting the freezing rain/sleet. Yesterday’s precipitation is frozen on top of the last snow, making for a treacherous trek to the barn. The roadways are apparently in bad shape, too. (I’m thinking it will be a long, long time before I attempt going down our steep driveway) During a nine-hour period, the VA state police responded to 366 traffic accidents across the state. And, there are still thousands of people without power.
Between the pandemic, the weather and personal concerns…we won’t even address politics and societal ills…the worries just keep on coming. Traumas build on each other. And, after a while, they truly seem overwhelming.
Hit the wall? I’d say so.
That was quite literally the case of the Mbrk Post Office. Someone drove their vehicle INTO the building, right through the brick wall. I don’t know if this was weather-related. I do know that the Post Office employee was not injured, although badly shakened. Mail delivery will be re-routed for at least three weeks while they repair the building. So, one more for the record books. (seriously, 2021 will far surpass 2020 when it comes to historic events—and not in a good way)
I don’t have any jazzy “life-hacks” to help get through this hard time. I can’t tell you how to jump to the front of the vaccination queue. I'm struggling to find my own motivation, so I cannot fault you for searching for yours. I won’t tell you to “think positive” or “get in nature” or “eat some carbs”. (seriously, that’s the best some advisors can do?) I wish I could make spring come quicker. Or grant a little encouragement, not only to you…but, to myself.
But, if there is any comfort in the sameness of life on the hill, then I do have something to offer.
The rhythm of the seasons continues…and yet there is always something new to discover. Take a look around...
|arugula flower in the hoophouse|
|baby lettuce in the greenhouse|
|voicing their opinion about the snow |
(it's not good)
|crow behind the barn|
|feather in the morning light|
|kingfisher at the creek|
|cardinals in the birch tree|
|well, howdy, Otis!|
|redwing blackbird in the snow|
|Remy does not approve|
(your choice of subject)
|cardinal in the snow|
|snow on wisteria|
|teasels at the creek|
|like mother, like daughter|
|table scrap treats tempt the hens out of the house|
Lambing season is over and considered a success by any standard. While the hens don’t appreciate the snow on their little bare chicken feet, the pullets are beginning to lay, so the cycle of life continues. And, the seed orders, small by comparison to the past, have arrived and are awaiting warmer days. Farm life continues...
|look at those eyes!|
|lunch al fresco|
|how do I tell the cat the heatlamps are for LAMBS?|
|lots of lambs|
|warm lambs on a cold morning|
|just hangin' out with my sheeps|
So, there are reasons to hope.
I suppose we just need to hold onto those…particularly when the days seem dark and dismal and the way seems long and hard.
Keep in mind…
“Every storm runs out of rain.” -Maya Angelou
|weather rolling in|
|sunrise at the barn|
|15 minutes later|
Thanks for stopping by.
|Otis says, "Have a great week!"|
Hope you’ll “visit” again soon.