There's a certain quiet to this season that feels calming, to me. People are driving less, for one thing, so there are times on the weekend when you can stand in the orchard and hear the hills behind the crow. That feels like it did when I was young.
The witch hazel has been glowing dull gold since the beginning of March, and that can keep me entertained while doing nothing but looking - perhaps I've found the contemplative life after all...
Over the year I've had time to design and build a little furniture, some things for Carol's house, and to further other projects like editing and transcribing. Walks, and a little careful music with friends, but Carol and I do the only singing together since the weather drove us all indoors.
I've had a small flurry of requests for videos (music, stories) and Zoom-participation in musical events. Carol and I have been making music together far more regularly, too.
We're also feeling even more connected to and grateful for all the friendships, earned or bestowed that the world has given us.
Curiously, the carvings keep trickling out the door at a leisurely pace, even without any gallery showings. I've been finishing up a few long-stalled pieces, rescued a couple from "death row" and made some new ones.
A year into sketches, research, drawings and studies (carvings in scrap wood) on a commission from a West coast family, I'm ready to put tool to a lovely piece of mahogany - (with all usual trepidation, prayers, and incantations, of course.)
I feel hope, this season, too, that these lost years and months have shown us what we are and can do, both good and bad.
I hope we can raise the energy to make the changes we need to, that we might live to deserve this lovely world.