From My Window

PANDEMIC VIEW
The virus began three months ago. China was the first to experience its lessons. And while the United States dragged its feet, the virus traveled to most of the planet.

Beloved Italy, everyone's destination spot, suffered most. And I fear no country, when this is done, will escape its lessons.

From my window, I can see mountains and water. From my window, I can see automobiles, both parked and in movement. From my window, I can see people, walking themselves, their dogs, their children. Familiarity breeds proximity, while strangers stay their required 6 feet of distance from one another.

I workout each day. Miranda Esmonde-White is my DVD workout partner.

I cook. I eat. I use the bathroom. Toilet paper is used sparingly. And cloth towels are used for most everything else, from wiping a counter to drying hands to sopping up spills on the floor. They are no longer sacred. They are used and washed and used again. In everything, usage is conservative. Everything, including food.

Fortunately, we - my partner and I - are good cooks. We use recipes, we prepare from memory and we invent. Creativity knows no bounds in this cloistered time. Fresh pasta was made, recently, accompanied with a lite tomato sauce. It was both delicious and tender. We relished every morsel. And last week, we made homemade rye bread.
Keeping us sane throughout, are both a residential project and our garden. Azalea blooms have come and gone. Our wisteria blossoms were eaten by a pesky squirrel. However, new leaves are sprouting on all branches. Soon, it will provide shade as it reaches across our trellis. Dianthus bloom, profusely. And a potted yellow rose has already given us a few gifts.
Three weeks and counting, we behave, staying inside or very near our home. The virus, as lesson to the Earth, is giving us all time to think and be. And it has given us the gifts of a sky, bluer than any I've seen in this city. 
Entering week four.