It’s been a while since I posted. But the morning here is sunny and crisp, just right for contemplating my garden.
As I pottered about, replanting flower pots and tending my blueberry and rose bushes, a butterfly hovered above my head. I stopped to marvel. It’s meandering flight from one point to the next seemed random. It chose some flowers over others. Changing it’s mind, backtracking then veering right or left, up and down, it had no apparent flight plan. Photographing it was a challenge.
I couldn’t help drawing comparisons with our progress in the struggle against this accursed plague. Albeit, our journey has been a little more feverish and urgent than the butterfly’s, but it’s been equally erratic. We are learning on the run.
I’m sure the randomness of the butterfly’s flight has purpose, that there is some design behind its unpredictable manner. I wonder if the same applies to the virus.
While I don’t in any way minimise the devastating effect the virus is having on many people: those who have lost loved ones, those whose livelihoods are in jeopardy, those who suffer without support, I keep coming back to the lessons I might learn.
I have discovered I enjoy sequestering. I like the time I have for reflection; the time that’s opened up for creative pursuits. At this stage, I’m still able to see nearby family in the flesh and have occasional contact with friends. Not being able to celebrate my daughter’s big decade birthday in another state was a bitter disappointment, but nothing that can’t be rescheduled for next year. God-willing, there will be light at the end of this long dark tunnel.
In the meantime, life goes on much the same for me, albeit with adjustments. The butterflies continue to visit my flowers. My garden continues to surprise and delight. There is hope in that. My heart goes out to all those not equally blessed.
Stay safe everyone.
No matter how long the storm lasts, the sun always shines behind the clouds.Khalil Gibran