all's well until i go to the store

Yesterday I escaped, all alone, to a state park near our house.  It's one we visit regularly, and especially in the spring to watch the season unfold. I squelched through the mud, and heard the rushing creek long before I saw it, thanks to the recent rains.  This time of year is all Secret Garden-y, with a green mist creeping over the ground where life is beginning to reawaken.  It was damp and cool, and as I cleared some of the dead leaves from tiny may-apple umbrellas,  I could've sworn Dickon was just over the next hill, whispering to his animals.  There was an absolute carpet of trout lily leaves, but no blooms, so I'll just have to plan an excursion in a week or so to see them in their full glory.  The silence and solitude was punctuated by a few hikers, in twos and threes, all practicing proper social distancing.  Our area has been hit moderately--our state is currently tenth in the country for the number of Covid-19 infections--so I haven't been too, too anxious.  Except for my little solo jaunt, though, I've been at home or in the backyard almost exclusively, and I've only been with my family.  It has been mostly a delight!

I have built a little cozy kingdom around myself at our house, which is why I was completely shocked by how fragile and anxious I felt at the grocery store this afternoon.  There were still very empty shelves--toilet paper, flour, lentils, pasta, all gone.  The lack of lentils was most upsetting, though I have no idea why.  Fr. G requested I make a lentil dish for him this week, and I was so hoping to please him with it.  It seems silly now, when there are so many people who may not even be able to afford food.  I stood in the aisle for a long time, breathing deeply and also trying not to breathe too deeply.  Many people there wore masks and gloves; some wore no protection and seemed unperturbed.  There were tape markings on the floor so we could properly space ourselves as we waited to be checked out.  I've absolutely no idea why being there was such a flood of tension, except that the environment itself created it.  Even over the loudspeaker, the announcer was conveying calming messages: no hoarding, there's plenty of food for all.  But that was somehow less reassuring that the usual pop music playing over the speakers.  I'm still processing all of the emotions, trying to protect my kids from my own angst.

I took a few selfies at the park, and if you know me at all, you know how odd that is!  I never take selfies.  My husband thinks I looked mad in all of them (ha), but I was really just focusing on getting the aim of the lens correct.  Something made me want to record my own self, so that years down the road I can look at the picture and say, This is the time that the world ended and I went hunting for wildflowers all alone and it brought me a measure of peace.  

Hoping you find something to do today that brings you peace, too!