Spring in the time of Corona

Deserted roads. The few neighbors that are out smile from a safe distance away. An undercurrent of gloom runs stealthily. Anxiety hangs over silent greetings. A dismaying text from a friend flashes with the latest statistic of doom.

We walk slowly on the sidewalk. We are allowed to walk our dogs outside. The air is crisp. A canopy of blue sky stretches out on the horizon. The faint sweet fragrance of Victorian Box permeates outside the house. Creamy white flowers adorn the trees. The sweet gum tree has young blue leaves. Spiky pods carelessly shed around the sidewalk. The Japanese maple grew too — surprising like children of acquaintances growing up so quickly that they look different when we meet.

They all show up like they always do. Like the cast of a favorite show. Waiting in the wings. Spring forward when the time is right. The mallows, and the sages. The poppies and the Manuka tea. The hedges of Indian Hawthorn. They are all there. Smiling, jostling and encouraging. It’s all going to be alright. Everything is going to be fine.

The Chinese pistachio trees are still bare. The bottlebrush has tiny buds. In a week or two they will likely burst onto the stage. The Bradford pears have a short bloom. White pearly blossoms litter the sidewalk flanked by bushes of Sea Lavender.

The California broom is starting to spread its carpet of yellow. In a week it will take over the meadows.

Far ahead the hills shine in their verdant green and play peek a boo as we turn to climb up our way home. Birdsong fills the air.

I run my fingers over the hedge of heavenly bamboo and stop to look at the blue iris. The hoots, chirps, and tweets grow all around us. Life surrounds us like a warm blanket.

I send comforting wishes to my loved ones. It’s going to be alright. The birds sing, a spider hastily weaves its web glistening in a sudden patch of sunshine. Spring is here. All is well. Everything is going to be fine.