Dear Friend,

Today we woke after a night of rain. After enjoying our morning coffee by the fireplace, we began our sparse routine. My husband took Heidi for her long morning walk. I baked Dill Pickle Quick Bread and hubby ate nearly the entire thing already! In the afternoon I soaked up a gloriously sunny hour while walking with Heidi. Since I spent a considerable amount of time outside today, there were several opportunities to chat with neighbours and others as they walked by. My peonies are breaking ground! I love seeing those little burgundy bullets as they make their spring presence. What a hopeful sight. When I sat down to practice piano today — Night Song and Musetta’s Waltz — I revelled in it. Music, whether listened to or played is so cathartic, especially now, more than ever. Life is good. Life is what we make of it.

Just now as I type this letter, I must share what is happening outside my window. Across the street both parents are not working due to the pandemic. They have two young children. Daily, they can be seen either going for a walk or out biking together. I frequently hear giggles. The dad plays games with them in the yard. At this moment, the dad is preparing to build a fire. He’s been hauling wood from the back of his truck to their fire pit and has been splitting the wood. The mom is working in the flower beds while the wee boy struggles to keep the wheelbarrow at her side. The young girl sways on the rope swing the dad has hung in a giant birch tree. Soon the fire will be lit and they’ll gather around on the wood stumps while the sun fades and night descends. Wonderful memories are being made.

May you also seek joy in the simple things in life.

2 thoughts on “A letter during the pandemic”

  1. My family is quite far-flung. My youngest sister, brother and father are in Nova Scotia. My sister and her family live in Ireland. A couple of weeks ago we started a weekly conference call that unites us over the distance. It’s heartening that something nice like this has grown out of such a difficult time.

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