“deliriously oblivious,” i thought as we passed the bees buzzing the dandelions on the trail.  with no real idea of the state of the pandemic-battered world, these bees were just going about their bee-life.  in some silly way, i was jealous.

much of the time right now i feel as if we are living in an alternate reality than others.  we shop with masks; many wander about fresh-faced and seemingly unaware.  we distance from others; we pass gatherings of people, clearly not related, all not even a smidge apart from each other.  we walk in single file on the side of the trail as we approach others; groups of people swarm the trail, passing right by us, unmasked, unconcerned.  we yearn to travel a bit, see our children, our families; others post about their gatherings or even trips.  we patiently work by videoconference, technology reigns supreme these days waiting for a time when it is safer to venture out; crowds protest and push for heedless immediate re-opening.  our hearts break for families losing loved ones to this dangerous virus; deaths are reported as cold numbers sans empathy.  the weighing of losing more lives vs ‘opening up’ is posed as an actual question.  it feels like we are on another plane of existence watching the world, abiding by different rules.  truly.

and right here, in the middle of it all, the bees buzz from dandelion to dandelion, and soon flower to flower, seeking nectar.  migratory birds return to the skies above and animals return to prowl about in warmer temperatures.  in other parts of the country and the world, wildlife is enjoying a reprieve from people.  in what must be a breath of fresh air for them, animals are freer to roam, freer to linger.  their curiosity is taking them off the beaten path, out of their norm.  i wonder if there is some kind of intuition that informs them; i wonder if they are somehow conscious of this looming threat to humanity.  i wonder what they are thinking as they watch this play out, the impact of a pandemic on health, relationships, mindfulness, neighborliness, working in community together.  i wonder how they, in the infinite wisdom of instinct, would decide if someone placed the words ‘health’ and ‘economy’ in front of them and made them choose just one.

there are moments i am convinced that dogdog and babycat know.  i’m sure that they can feel the anxiety we hold.  dogga, in particular, watches our faces for cues, his gaze is eye-to-eye-contact riveting.  they hover about us, close by.  perhaps unmindful of the pandemic, but certainly conscious of our emotions.

and as bumblebees begin to buzz in our backyard, the dog chases them.  the birds begin to discover there is water in the pond again.  the squirrels dance across the wires.  the turkey lands on the roof.  the sun rises earlier.  the lettuce starts to grow.

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY