DAY TWENTY-TWO OF THE CORONAVIRUS SHUTDOWN FOR US AT STACK 'EM HIGH PANCAKES AND SO FORTH
Good morning! Although it is a considerable amount of work, we are grateful for a spacious yard during these days of quarantine. Usually, April showers bring Nick's reluctant return to mowing a lot of grass, but this year he has greeted the task with a cheerful disposition. Instead of wrestling with our monster hedge he seems to have gained its respect and restored the green wall it to its former glory. I have managed to reclaim our overgrown garden, and there seems to be a chance of an actual harvest in the future. Our fig trees are beginning to bloom. I found tiny hens and chicks peeking through the dirt. Our holly bushes are so full of bees that you can actually hear them before you see them. I cannot remember the last time we have been so uplifted by the hallmarks of spring.
In a seasonal economy, such as ours here on the Outer Banks, people have a tendency not to crawl out of our imposed hibernation but to run. When the weather warms up, the season ramps up. And once the starting gun has gone off there really isn't much stopping that sprint until the next equinox. But here we are, day twenty-two of shutdown. No hustle. No bustle. Not certain when the momentum will return. But guess what? Our fig trees didn't get the memo. The ground beneath our feet brims with life. Our yard is literally crawling with commotion. Rachel Carson once wrote, "There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature, the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter." Undoubtedly, this spring is heavy with burden, but it is just as full of miracles as the last. And when you allow your hope to be cultivated like fertile ground, the miracles will never cease.