Contrasts

I wrote yesterday about the low point that I hit and hit pretty hard, likening it riding up a steep hill into the wind with one gear. Today, I felt I had reached the top of that hill and was now catching my breath as I hit the straightaway. I still needed to pedal but not so hard.

Virginia spring beauties

As much as I dread Mondays, they now provide a certain stability in uncertain times. This particular Monday began with sunshine and blue skies—as well as seeing a wild, solo turkey running across my neighbors' lawns. As it alternated between waddling and sprinting, I giggled. The wild things really are starting to take over.

Later in the day, during my brief walk to the next street and back, I noticed the stillness in the air. I haven't seen a contrail from an airplane in days. The sound of the traffic from the main road that carries into my neighborhood is quieter. At the very end of our subdivision on the edge of a lawn that borders an empty lot, I happened upon some Virginia spring beauties, one of my favorite native spring wildflowers. They are tiny, delicate, and pink and not usually found in residential neighborhoods—indeed, a lovely surprise.

The side view

Contrast that with the tree I saw later when I went to my coworker's place to drop off 20 or so t-shirts from my yesteryears (sniffs) so another coworker can make masks. This massive fallen tree was very old. I marveled at its splinters, at its massive trunk, and long branches. What force could have brought such a strong organism to its knees?

Many people perceive me as strong, too, but like that tree, I have been brought to my knees more than once during this pandemic. Inside, I'm a Virginia spring beauty—oh so delicate and trying in my own small way to bring something good into the world, even for a moment in an unexpected place to an unexpected person.

Everything looks better with daffodils.