A Different Kind of Quiet

It's day whatever of the lock-down in Nod.  Yes, the indiscriminate reach of this new plague extends even to places as cold and forlorn as Nod.  When asked how I am tolerating the isolation, I respond that it really isn't much different for me than life was before the Plague.  I am accustomed to spending my time alone...and, specifically, at home alone, so that is nothing new.  I am also easily entertained and amused and, heaven knows, I have enough projects (fun and otherwise) to keep me occupied for several natural (and otherwise) lifetimes.

And life in Nod has always been, for the most part, quiet. 

But even this Quarantined Crow must admit that it is a different kind of quiet.

It is too early for the farmers to be in their fields and, apparently, we don't have too many "essential" workers living out this way because there are few, if any, cars that pass.

It is too cold to do outdoor things and that "ugly" adolescent-ness of spring is upon us so that nothing is green, but nothing is really white anymore as what snow remains seems dirty and used.

It is as if life was suddenly "paused."

We do not have children here that need to be schooled and I imagine life is quite different and not so serene in those homes that do....but that happy chaos does not reach here.

So, I carry on doing what I have been carrying on doing for so long now.... 

No - no closets emptied, no drawers organized; no purging, no downsizing, no tossing....No spring cleaning, no rearranging of furniture, no painting. No. Nope. Nada. 

I am, after all, a creature of habit.

I have not had much inclination to decorate for Easter. 

But a few things have found their way upstairs....

{Wax chicks by the talented Misi from 1890 Gable House Goodes}

{Felted carrots I made years and years ago in one of my favorite bunnies}

My plan to get binding wool to finish my Gillford runner...and perhaps a new hooking pattern and wool...was thwarted by the lock-down.   So, I have continued to stitch until I get up the nerve to pick up my Welcome Cat rug again.  This week I bit the bullet and actually made this stitching into the pinkeep it was supposed to be:

The pattern is from Scattered Seed Samplers and was part of the Birds of a Feather Handworkes club.  It is appropriately entitled Set Free. 

I know many are longing to be "set free" and my heart goes out to those who are much more affected by this pandemic than I:  Those whom the illness has touched directly and/or indirectly, those who have lost their jobs or been laid off indefinitely (including my Little Crow), those who are on the front lines in health care or "essential" job functions, those who have been thrown into uncertainty of having their life savings and retirement accounts reduced to a mere fraction of what they were, and those whom this plague has isolated.  I worry for my mum and those others who are in assisted living facilities, nursing homes and the like and are not allowed visitors. Dementia is cruel as we know, and my mother can be told 100x a day why no one from her family visits her, but she cannot remember.  All she must feel is total and utter abandonment.  Our economy, our country, and our world will not be the same.  But I hope that some of the "difference-ness" that results will be of the good sort.

And despite all the hardships, fear and uncertainty that has accompanied this plague, I hope a little piece of each of us can be grateful that we live in a place where, despite a pandemic of epic proportions, we can be safe and warm in our homes, work and attend school from our homes, communicate (albeit not in person) with loved ones, and have food in our pantries and refrigerators.

  Maybe not toilet paper...but, hey....life's never gonna be perfect.

Rajah Roo practicing "social distancing"

Stay well and stay safe.