Covid Journal, Day 288: A New Year

Rain and 36. Almost cold enough to snow but not quite. Perhaps just as well, because we'd be buried up if all this rain was snow.

Good afternoon, and Happy New Year to all of you!

It's a rainy start. I'd have preferred snow, but that's okay. We have a road trip tomorrow, possibly, so it might be better if the roads are only wet and not icy.

One good thing to report: apparently we are in the clear virus-wise. It's been about 6 days since we had visitors, and we're both well. I thought it would be okay as everyone who came for Christmas was either mostly self-isolated, recently tested or had already had the virus. I am still basking in the memory of their visits. 

New Year's Eve was a much quieter affair. Larry went to bed early, so it was me and the dogs waiting for midnight. I watched The Bishop's Wife, a favorite Christmas movie that I'd missed somehow this year, and then put in New Year's Eve, another favorite, while skimming Facebook and browsing seed catalogs. A few minutes before midnight I woke Larry up so we could see the year in together. Then our youngest called for a Facetime chat. He'd been celebrating at home with his wife, daughter, and mother-in-law, with good Venezulan food, music, dancing and wine. It sounds like they had a great at-home party.

We started today with a breakfast of homemade waffles, blueberries and raspberries, and bacon. Leisurely, sipping coffee, and reflecting on the past year. We know we are lucky. We're grateful that we did not face the hard issues so many have had to deal with--loss of paychecks, jobs, homes, and worst of all, loved ones who died with the virus.For so many people this has been a difficult year. Living in the country and in an isolated location, and being retired have protected us from the worst of this past year. With that gratitude comes guilt, though, and I know many of you have also felt this--because we are fine--so far--while so many are suffering. Such thoughts keep us humble and also keep us from being complacent, because at any time something could happen to completely change our situation. 

This year has made me even more appreciative of the small things. Things like a call from a friend, a cardinal on the feeder, coffee in my favorite cup--I am paying more attention. And also appreciating the time that was suddenly freed up when my storytelling and writing events were canceled for the entire year. I have used that time, perhaps not as wisely as I might have, but in ways that have been satisfying personally. I've read novels, more than I have in years. I spent more time in the gardens, and raised my own plants once again. I put up more food, more than we can possibly use. I've been cleaning the overlooked corners of our home, and sorting and downsizing a little, selling several pieces of funiture from the house and clearing out drawers and closets and storage bins. I have more to do, but I've made a good dent. Probably no one will notice the difference but me, and that's okay.

We've also managed to reduce the backlog of furniture and totes full of inventory by focusing on selling what we have, and I've done more ebay sales than ever. So stockpiles are starting to dwindle; we've given away a load or two to another furniture refurbisher, and taken a dozen or more totes of stuff that hasn't sold to an online seller. Larry has been cleaning out the garage so there is now space for his tractor to park inside, and built a little lean-to shed for his riding mower. 

I met a personal goal to lose 5 pounds, which I have to admit I lost and regained several times during the year--but I think I can say now that it's finally officially lost. Larry continues to fight his demon, and I know that battle will be ongoing, but at least we've made a tentative, if stumbling, start to getting some help. Some things take time, and take even longer now that access to medical help is more problematic.

I guess, as I read back over this post, that we've concentrated on getting our lives more organized. Not just Larry and me, but people everywhere seem to be doing the same thing. Once the hurdy-gurdy of our usual routine suddenly stopped, we stopped too, and took stock, of our priorities and of ourselves. It's funny, but this wasn't the post I intended to write--I guess it was the one my fingertips and my mind pushed to the front, so here we are. I'll spend today writing out seed orders, maybe have a nap, and then cook our dinner of roast venison with mushroom sauce, wild rice, cabbage with money in it, and blackeye peas. Maybe we'll get some turnips from the garden too, as it's always special to have something fresh from the garden on the table at New Year's. 

To start the year on a hopeful note, here's a group I recently discovered, The Fisherman's Friends. Who can possibly be down after listening to this?

All the best to all of you that have persevered with me over the months and years. May your new year be healthy, safe, peaceful and joy-filled.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.