For the first time in many years I have dirty fingernails, may back is sore,
For the first time in many years I have dirty fingernails, my back is sore, my jeans are not socially acceptable. This month I garden, building habitat (or at least improving my access to habitat already there) for beetles, bees, moles and voles, salamanders, termites, and a steady parade of zebra swallowtail butterflies. I am, as a gardener, reborn: planting, transplanting, raking pathways, tidying beds. Gardening is allowed exercise, a resurrection of past life. While socially distancing from 24/7 news, there are no boats to meet; the phone rings infrequently; emails are checked once a day. It’s been 21 days since I guided a boat through Lake Jocassee; 13 days since one of our boats left the dock; 12 days since concrete barriers closed access to this place of heart, soul, and livelihood. Our closed workplace is a small inconvenience. Many others are sacrificing much so more. On this holiest of Christian holidays I pray for you all, in my own way, building a little place of refuge.