For two years, the Covid-19 pandemic has been messing with each of us. Though we’re “all in this together,” everyone’s experiences and reactions are unique. My reaction to the pandemic was not particularly creative; I hid from Covid-19, avoiding it like the plague. Oh, whoops, whadda-ya-know, it WAS the plague. WAS! I think the plague-level danger is in the past, and I feel like it has joined the ranks of deadly everyday hazards we manage to avoid: getting run over by a bus, catching some other dread disease, car wrecks, unfortunate run-ins with large predators. I’ve mainly been hiding out at Tadpole Haven, indulging my natural tendencies toward introversion and workaholism. Now I can barely carry on a coherent conversation…but the nursery is doing okay!

Actually, I think the nursery – and many other nurseries – did fine during the pandemic because people, stuck at home, discovered gardening. Working outside with living plants and soil promotes good mental health. It is an antidote to boredom and stress. Maybe it also relieves megalomania and paranoia—if only Vladimir Putin had spent the last two years out in his garden!

Two years in, Spring is coming, and this last week, I’ve been hearing a pair of Varied Thrushes calling to each other in the little urban forest Brian has been nurturing at our home in downtown Carnation. They reminded me that it’s time for a “re-set”; pull the nose away from the grindstone and allow for creativity and even a tad bit of adventure.

A bird’s-eye view of my life and all its facets may help me creatively choose a good path forward. I think I’ll take a look…In all my spare time. Ha!

Sincerely, Shirley

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