I’ll be honest – I’ve been having a hard time juggling all my emotions since COVID-19 hit. I’m fairly certain I’m not alone in that, so I’m going to take a quick break to let those feelings out and share some of my photographs that I find relaxing or soothing or whatever else. There’s no real order to any of this, but hopefully you’ll find some comfort in them as well.
Where to start? Maybe a little background for any of you reading this who don’t know me (and by the way, thanks for checking this out!). I’m a historian by training and while my career has gone a different direction, that’s still how I see myself. But for awhile, when I was a teenager, I thought about studying infectious diseases. (Basically, I read The Hot Zone and was fascinated by Ebola.) I eventually moved away from that, but I’ve continued to be curious about disease and viruses, spending a good chunk of this summer reading about the Black Death, cholera outbreaks, and the previous coronavirus to cross our path, SARS. I say all that to explain part of my jumbled feelings about our current situation, mainly the juxtaposition of the seriousness of it all, the rising death tolls and case numbers, with the mundaneness of day-to-day life. I know how bad things got with the Black Death, with Ebola outbreaks in Africa, with SARS in China and Toronto and I have an academic sense of how bad things can get here and now. Things have changed in my life – I work from home, kids aren’t in school, no more going out to eat, nearly empty roads – but at the same time, the dishes still need to be done, laundry is never-ending, and I spend whatever time I get out of the house out hiking.
And thank goodness for that! A couple of days ago, I planned to finish working and then go hiking. But as I wrapped up the work day, I was just overwhelmed by everything going on, the weather was gray and colder than expected, and I only hiked to my couch, with a quick detour to the kitchen to get ice cream.
There’s an article floating around on social media about naming this as grief, and I found that to be comforting. There’s the grief for what we’ve lost and what we may lose going forward. The loss as the warmth of personal interaction (a handshake, a hug, a high five) disappears and leaves us in the winter of “social distancing.”
There’s that feeling that we’re alone before the storm, watching the clouds roll in, feeling the wind pick up, but having no way of knowing when it’ll hit or how much damage it will cause. And more than fear for myself, I worry about the health of my friends and family members who will be more susceptible. Added to that all is the feeling that I should be doing something, but knowing that I can’t – other than staying away.
And yet – despite our physical distance, there’s also a sense of connection. We’re all in this together. Whether we’re in China, Italy, Spain, South Africa, the United States, this pandemic is giving us a common experience. Having lost our day-to-day interactions, we’re reaching out and finding new ways to connect, appreciating the people we have. Our isolation serves a greater purpose, protecting the vulnerable among us. It’s difficult to imagine what’s going to happen next or where we’re going to be even in the next week or two. But we have an opportunity to reshape things for the better, at both the macro and micro level.
In the meantime, nature has been a refuge. When my sole hike was to the couch the other day, I was miserable. The next day, however, the sun came out and it got warmer, so as soon as I finished work, I grabbed my camera and headed out. Just driving to the trail lifted my mood and as I began walking, breathing in the fresh air and listening to birds calling one another, insects humming, water rushing, and the wind whistling through the trees, I felt hope and joy return.
Over my last few hikes, I’ve seen glimpses of the seasons changing. The days are lasting longer and the stillness and silence of my winter walks are being replaced with the sounds of spring. It gives me hope that whatever happens, we’re part of the larger universe and no matter how bad things may get, it well eventually pass. The ice melts, the sun brings warmth again, buds and grass push their way through and bring color back to the landscape.
When I finished hiking, I decided to go over to the Virginia Kendall Ledges to watch the sunset, since I was in the neighborhood. I’ve been avoiding the Ledges recently, because I had a feeling they would be pretty crowded, but I wanted to see if I could get some good sunset views. As suspected, the parking lot was packed and when I got close to the actual scenic overlook, there were quite a few people also waiting for the sunset. I was glad that there was at least an attempt to space out, but I very quickly turned and found a more secluded perch. It wasn’t quite the view I would’ve gotten, but it was beautiful and peaceful. I spent the last bit of sunlight perched on a rock, watching the sun paint the sky.
Once it was done, we all streamed out of the woods and headed across the field, back to our cars, our moment of collective solitude complete.
P.S. I’ve been feeling a little conflicted on posting about trails during this. On the one hand, I’m thrilled that people are getting outside and enjoying all our parks have to offer. On the other hand, there are some horror stories surfacing of people destroying the landscape, trashing the trails, and not observing safe distances from others. Please, please, please take care while you’re hiking. When you pass others, give as much room as you can. Do not crowd around certain landmarks, like the viewing platforms at Brandywine Falls. Pack out all your trash. Make sure humans use the bathroom before you head out, since bathrooms might be closed, and if you bring a four-legged friend, be sure to pick up after them. Don’t go wandering off the path – you can destroy fragile growth and if lots of people do it, it can cause significant damage. Don’t move rocks and stones. Be kind. If the parking lot is full, consider finding a different trail. I use the app All Trails – it will show you all sorts of trails around you and give you directions. Wherever you are, be safe and think of others. We’re in this together.
