Shelter in Place, San Francisco, March 17, 2021
We first became acquainted with this red tailed hawk when, as a juvenile, he flew head-on into our garage door years ago, before I moved out here full time. Thankfully, the bird recovered, and now full-grown, he sometimes sits high atop the redwood tree in the far corner of what is now my block, my home. From some 60’ up, the hawk must have a splendid view of nearly the entire city and across the bay to Oakland. With his keen eyesight, too, he surely tracks the cats, moles, mice, and squirrels below him. Yesterday, accompanied and unperturbed by a flank of scolding crows, the hawk soared to his perch and stayed there as we entertained a vaccinated visitor out on the deck.
I’m trying to temper my excitement about the freedom that our vaccinations may or may not bring on what my journal tells me is the 365th day of this long journey. One year. It seems there are enough variables and hurdles to warrant caution over the next few months and weeks. But oh, how I reveled yesterday in the simple luxury of a masked friend’s hug - the very first one since the quarantine began. And as we sat together catching up, it was hard not to feel - much like our friend who watched us from his perch high in the redwood - simply on top of the world.
Day 358: Life is Fragile
Shelter in Place, San Francisco, March 14, 2021
Every day there are new signs of spring in the garden, a continuation of the cycle I’ve been sharing on these pages for a year. In full summer, this small azalea hides so well beneath its neighbor that I almost forget it’s there. How fitting, then, that this little gem sneaks its springtime blossoms in before the hydrangea has time to fill out and dominate the space. The azalea’s buds are fragile, they are fleeting, but they are spectacular, and a reminder that life is always beautiful somewhere, whether we remember to look for it or not.
We have lived in such proximity to death and tragedy this pandemic year that all our energy has gone into keeping it at bay and we, the lucky ones, have counted it a miracle that the virus has yet to touch us. But with our obsession of all things COIVD, we can forget that life and death are always lurking in the shadows. We are fragile creatures. Life itself is fragile and it is finite with or without a particular disease. But it is also a miracle we must celebrate even and especially here and now.
Day 356: Luck
Shelter in Place, San Francisco, March 12, 2021
As luck would have it, I fertilized the soil around the ferns and palm tree just before the rains. Three days later as the sun emerged, I found a miniature forest of toadstools hiding in the shadows right where I had been working. Clover, too, had cropped up overnight — not the four-leaf kind but serendipitous enough to feel like luck had landed at my feet.
We need all the luck we can get these days, and good sense, too. Hearing the president say last night that everyone can be vaccinated by May made my heart soar - but that success depends on everyone taking the jab when they can get it, and following good practices until we’re all out of the woods. What’s that saying? ‘Without hard work there’d be no luck at all.’ It’s hard to keep doing what we need to do to get us to the end, but I’m going to keep my fingers crossed - maybe, with luck and good neighbors, I’ll be able to see my kids and grandkids this summer, if we can all just hang in there to the end.