Going Squirrelly

I've been spending most days by myself.  JDB is an essential employee who works for a hospital, so he's either there or at the lab during the week.  I generally spend my days working in front of the large bay windows in the living room.  Sometimes, there are cats sleeping in various places around me and sometime in the late morning, I turn on the TV just for the noise (and the heat the TV produces, but this chilly house is a story for another time).

I have two bird feeders and a suet feeder outside these windows and I can pretty much watch the comings and goings of many feathered
friends.  The most common visitors are downy and red-bellied
woodpeckers, tufted titmice (titmouses?), chickadees, finches, cardinals, juncos, house wrens, and the occasional blue jay.

It is marvelous; I find birds to be immensely fascinating.

Not everyone who comes up on the porch is feathered, however, and the other visitors are fascinating, too, though not for the same reasons. 

I want to talk about squirrels.

Much of the time, they seemed okay with just eating what had fallen onto the mat under the feeder; but, increasingly, they kept trying to get onto the one birdfeeder and so we hung a large windchime in between the porch upright and the feeder.  Not to be dissuaded, they would jump on top of it and then look around panicked when it began to make SO MUCH NOISE and spin around on them.  Occasionally, they would still manage to get over to the feeder, and I kind of had to give it to them at that point, honestly.

But I did get them some of their own food in the hopes of keeping them from feeling quite so captivated by the feeder.  So, far it seems to be working, and has provided it's own sort of entertainment, to boot.  To watch them try to sit on the corn and eat from it without it spinning them off is...well, I don't know.  But it is fun.  And the thing that is best about them?

No matter how silly they look or how many times they are defeated, they keep trying.

The Little Things

I went for a walk today.

The sun was out, the weather was fairly warm and the sky was blue.  I couldn't NOT go and get some fresh air.

It was a very brown sort of day - last year's leaves still covered everything in the woods, there were no leaves yet and there were large swaths of mud in places due to recent rains and the heavy traffic of deer running their paths.  But it is also so clearly spring.  Daffodils are blooming.  The pussy willows blow fuzzily in the breeze.  The air was full of birdsong.  As I walked, stepping over deadfall and trying to avoid thorns of berry bushes, I turned my head constantly to follow sound or look for the source of movement out of the corner of my eye.

Between two trees, a pair of wings landed and basked in the sun.  Squirrels ran willy-nilly over and under branches, chirping if I somehow got too close.  A woodpecker lazily tapped its way down a tree trunk, exploring what mysteries might be resting within.  It was a good walk and it felt amazing to be outside in the fresh air.

I was sitting inside later, somewhat mindlessly watching a squirrel forging around under the birdfeeder when I heard a thump and, with my heart in my throat, I peeked out and there was a tiny bird beneath the window, wings a little splayed out.  I sighed and watched as the startled squirrel snuck up on it and smelled it, as if trying to figure out if it was something that would eat him or could be eaten.  Determining it was neither, it went back to foraging.  I did nothing for a few minutes more, just watching and waiting to see what might happen.  Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and went out there, the squirrel bustling off and leaving me with what was clearly a house wren.  I sat down next to it and could see it was still breathing.  I reached out and gently brushed its feather on its chest and tried to see if it looked hurt.  I don't know what I would have done if it did look hurt, but I couldn't help trying to figure it out.  I decided it shouldn't be on the porch, so I went to try and gently pick it up when it flew up and landed on a rafter, perched sort of upside down.  It has since flown away.

Sometimes, the little things aren't so little, you know?

Silver Linings

In times of great strife and unrest, there are always silver linings that can remind us that we are not really alone.  And that we can handle what life throws at us.

Because I'm not traveling to Texas for work tomorrow (because of the virus), I actually have some time in my teaching schedule that I can use to make up the week we gave up to prepare our classes for the move to online (because of the virus).

Because my husband can sometimes work from home, he's been able to support and help me with some of my issues with teaching online - both from a technology perspective as well as a philosophical one.  He's always been a sounding board, but now he can help me in real time.  We are both able to support one another as we figure out this uncharted territory.  It makes the days that I'm alone a little easier.

Because this struck in early spring, there has been so much wildlife activity outside my window.  My
home office is right in front of our big living room windows that look out on the yard and woods beyond.  Yesterday I saw a red-tailed hawk, a fox, numerous deer, countless birds at the feeders, our porch squirrels, and a flock of turkeys.

Because we are home more often, we are getting to see some of Ellie's antics.  She is the cat we rescued over a year ago who still flinches when we go to pet her and will not rest easy if we are in the same room as her.  But these days she seems to be coming out more into the rooms where we are.  Just today we got to see her

wrestling a little with Mattie, the fearless furball princess.

Because we are all worried about each other, we are more apt to express words of love and support.  Reaching out, checking in.  Sharing stories and sending virtual hugs.  These are all things that mean this is really about physical distancing, not social.  We need more social than ever before.

Because this is truly a singular event in our lifetimes, I have started a journaling project with Honors students at FLCC.  This Living History project will give students an outlet to explore their lives in the context of these moments and, as a result, we will have many voices of the pandemic in the FLCC archives.  History is truly alive when it is told in the voices of those who were there.

Because so many of us are home so much more than we have been in the past, we are spending more time with our immediate families.  Dinners being eaten together, school work being figured out together, time spent in one another's company.  We are baking bread and trying new recipes.  I don't have children, but I see so many posts on social media of these moments and they are truly heartwarming.  We are also spending more time with our pets - even if its while they are interrupting our meetings and sticking their faces in our cameras.  There is more laughter.

Amidst the fear and the worry and the sadness and the changes.  It will not all be laughter as the days grow into weeks.  It will not be easy or happy.  But it will have silver linings.

Flashes of Normal

Today, I sat on the front stoop of my parents' house as they stood inside.  We had a conversation about how strange all of this was and about what various public figures were saying about it.  It was the closest I felt comfortable being to them.  I had brought over some needed supplies for them so they would not have to go out.  In return, I picked up a number of things - perhaps the most important being homemade chocolate chip cookies.  Not for any real reason other than there is little that can top my mother's homemade baked goods.

Between his heart, the diabetes, and his age, my father has a trifecta of risk factors and we are taking no chances.

This is compounded by the fact that my husband works in health care...which means he is an essential employee by government standards and is reporting to work several days a week.  We have no way of knowing if he has been exposed.  Or if I have in the errands I have run or the chiropractor appointment I went to today.

None of us know.

My worries and fears are no different than yours, really.  We are all wondering if we've been exposed, if (or when) we will get sick, how badly we will get it, and the answer to the same questions for all of those we love.

So many little things are different.  Door guards in the form of health care workers who took my name, phone number, and temperature at the hospital.  From behind masks, their muffled voices asked me a series of questions before I was allowed to go  to my appointment.  There were only three chairs in the waiting room, set equidistant apart.  My chiropractor wore gloves and we had to forego the heating pad that loosened my bones before he did his adjustment.  As I sit here typing this blog, I'm in a different kind of pain than normal.  Sore.  Feeling the effects of difference.

But some things were the same.  He and I gave each other a hard time about things, as we always do.  The secretary was her normal smiling self as she greeted me by name.  So many of us are doing the best we can to make the best of it.  I will not discount the importance of sitting on the stoop in the sun and talking to my parents.  I have that much, and so much more, to be happy about.

Like chocolate chip cookies.

Practice Humanity

I have not written a blog in four years.

Many things have happened in that time.  We moved.  We rescued pets and let other ones go.  I've said hello and then goodbye to many students.  I've had a lot of challenges and a lot of celebrations.  I could have written about any of them...and may, still.

But it was none of those things that got me to come back, as it were.  It is a combination of three things.

The first is a student-turned-friend who has their own blog.  Yesterday, they said to me, "Never stop writing!" and it struck a chord.

The second is an invitation I am shortly going to be sending out to all the students who have chosen Honors Studies or who are in an Honors class this semester - an invitation to journal their experiences during the third reason.  It seems odd to invite others to do something that I am not doing myself...so I am going to do a version of it.

The third reason, as you might imagine, is the pandemic.

There are so many things I could talk about and probably will as the more-uncertain-than-ever future unfolds.  We don't know how long we will be asked to shelter in place.  We don't know how many will grow sick, how many we will lose.  We took too long to mobilize, but now that we finally are, things are moving so quickly.  I'm grieving, it is true, but that's not what I want to talk about here.  I'm angry and sad and uplifted all at once.  I'm anxious and scared.  But what I would rather talk about is something that the governor of New York said today.  This is not about politics or how I see him now or in the past.  But he said something that is really important that we all remember in times like these.

Except who am I kidding - there have not been times like these in my lifetime, in the lifetime of my parents.  This is uncharted territory...but his words ring true nonetheless.  In the face of the hoarding and the con artists, the ones spreading false information and the ones trying to capitalize off the lack of others - in the face of all of that, his words ring true.

Practice humanity, he said.

Practice kindness, practice compassion, practice gentility, practice patience.

We may not be able to greet others with a handshake or a hug.  We may have to resort to greetings via technology or through a window... but we have the chance to make this easier on us all.  We have the power to make things harder for our fellow humans or to make it easier.

Practice humanity.

We can't return to normal after this, because 'normal' is what got us here in the first place.  But maybe, we can learn something from everything we are going through.  The only way to get better is to practice.

Practice makes perfect.

Practice humanity.