Day ? of the pandemic.
A robin builds a next to the bedroom window; a wren builds a nest by my office door, a chickadee builds a nest by the windchimes hanging from the arbor, in spite of everything.
A big old watersnake guards its territory by the creek bank and startles me so that I can’t help but realize my heart, no matter how battered, still beats, even so.
The clouds roll in over the mountaintop and remind me, with electricity in the air and wind stirring the trees, that nature is in charge, in spite of arguments to the contrary, in spite of everything.
I receive a notice from a friend that three women in the community have passed from this horrible virus, and I can feel the swell of grief and solace all around, from our separate rooms, even so.
I light a candle that smells so accurately of roses it brings me to the memory of the days when I lived in Paris and the rose garden, the bagatelle — in the bois de Boulogne in Paris, and the feel of soft petals against my cheeks. Who knows whether I’ll ever return there, but I’m so grateful for the memory and the scents that life in our souls, in spite of everything.
I make an apple bundt cake with caramel sauce. It fills the house with the scent of baking and cinnamon and warm fruit and, if I do say so myself (all I did was follow the recipe here), it tastes like the angels themselves had created it just to tell me everything will be all right, even so.
And so, Beloveds, what did you notice today? What hurt you? What healed you?