Enduring Earth, Passing Pandemic
While sequestered for weeks now in a rented house far from home but close to a few family members in Ojai, California, I often feel confused and disoriented when I wake up. This is particularly the case when the long, dark night has been fitful and full of dread. Everyday we seem to wake up to the ongoing, dire news and statistics from countries such as Italy and Spain and now, more than ever, the US. This only leads to a deeply conflicted experience: my sense of gratitude being here in this oasis coupled by dismay. That frightening, at times, apocalyptic nightmare of just a few hours ago can either linger on or dissipate. I have almost no control over it.
Fortunately, another perspective emerges: the ability to reconcile this with news that my family and hopefully friends, are remaining in good health and relative well-being. As I realized early on during this pandemic, this parallels another experience from almost twenty years ago — making for a powerful déja-vu.
After endless hours of watching television on 9/11, as the sun continued to shine relentlessly in a bright blue sky and I was panicking about my daughter flying from JFK to Spain on that very day, I went outside. Here, in the Berkshires, I simply began digging in my mother in law’s garden after she suggested I separate her crowded irises. Today, the garden is wider and the time span, longer.
before the storm
As many of us have discovered, being physically in nature — or simply going outdoors for a walk or seeing it from one’s window, leads to healing. It wakes us up to another, more “grounded” reality. We can shed some of our dreaded worries. Seeing a few individuals, also engaged in outdoor activities, offers comfort as well. I’m not alone. Here, in the Los Padres mountains, for what may become a long haul — and barely anticipated when we left Mexico, we are blessed to be also “embedded” with nature. As I’ve also come to realize, the radical social distancing we’re all engaged in around the planet, brings us closer not only to our loved ones but also to nature.
ojai, California, spring, 2020
The rugged Los Padres mountains majestically frame a wide valley overflowing with orange and lemon trees. Since mid-March, when we arrived, the trees, planted in perfectly parallel rows, have been laden with fruit. They also offer small white flowers in bloom. The scent is heavenly. Walking or biking past them you are invited into the landscape.
Coupled with the visual, comes a rich olfactory experience. This fragrance is unmistakable. No need to think about remaining six feet away; the scent permeates the air. It can also make for the reassurance, or wishful thinking, that I’m not a victim of Covid-19 since losing a sense of smell and taste makes for one of the symptoms, and bizarre ones at that…
Rows upon rows of citrus groves
Orange blossom
But there’s more to this than being surrounded by nature, both wild and tame. The turn of events that took us west instead of back east, is giving my husband, David and I the good fortune to spend close time with our grandson, Sydney and his mother, Nadia. We soon realized it would also be hard to remain physically apart. So, after weighing the risks upon arriving, we decided to make for one family unit.
As this photo below shows, aside from being impressed by the lush landscape and relishing in the scent of the citrus groves, we can also pick a few of its fruits.
Sydney picking oranges
While “hunkering down”, I’ve come to appreciate how social distancing, as bizarre as it is today, and frightening on a long term basis, encourages us to grow closer to nature. While so many doors are now closed, we can hopefully open others.
