March is such an expectant month and each year I am convinced that my longing for flowers and blooms has reached a new high. This year is no exception and when T and I spied crocuses getting ready to bloom last weekend I couldn’t help myself from popping by today. Things are coming along nicely.
After some cold months, T and I are back to our weekend walks in the woods. Last weekend, after a few days of unusual warmth, we headed to our favorite spot on the D&R Canal. We like this location all the time, but especially at twilight this time of the year when the Spring peepers can be heard. The canal is quiet at twilight and the reflection of the trees is lovely. The trees are not yet ready to leaf out, but when I look closely the signs of Spring are there.
On this Saturday evening, as we got ready to turn our clocks ahead, the most hopeful sign of Spring was the sound of the peepers. Last year, the state had an 8 pm curfew and we were eager to do our part so we didn’t hear the peepers very much. This year, feels more hopeful for a lot of reasons but especially because we could hear the peepers as we enjoyed the last of the sunlight.
The forced bulbs are coming along nicely. I expect the morning sunlight they receive in this spot is helpful.
One year ago today, school closed for Spring Break a day early. I came to work on Friday the 13th to halls empty of students (how is that for a harbinger of what was to come?) and attended an administrative meeting where the decision was made that school would be remote for the first week after Spring Break. We were taking things one day at a time but I knew then that one week would not be enough. As I sat in my quiet office, I realized we would not be back in the school hallways for the rest of the school year.
As the fearful quiet took hold, I scanned history documents and made copies of everything I could possibly need to finish out the year teaching from home. Then I packed it all in my car and took school home. I remember that it was sunny and warm; the kind of beautiful Spring day that makes you feel unbelievably lucky to be alive. That day, before the full fear had taken hold, it felt like I could take my luck for granted.
At the time, I thought we’d all pause for a bit to “flatten the curve” (remember that phrase?) but surely would be back in school by September. In hindsight, that confidence seems naive. From my perspective today, one year in to the pandemic, am glad of the naïveté. On March 12, 2020, I was afraid and willing to pause but I was nowhere near ready to embrace the challenge and sadness the next year would bring.
Today feels so much different than March 2020. For one thing, I am among the lucky few 11% of the people in New Jersey to be fully vaccinated. I feel incredibly hopeful about the pace of vaccines in my state; we are now putting out 500k a week and in a state with 7 million vaccine-eligible adults, that is moving fast. The nation has reached the point of a steady 2 million shots a day. All of that is hopeful. My state still has a daily case load that causes me concern - most days, we are at 3,000 new positives. Over the past year, more than 21,000 of us have died. New Jersey’s cautious re-opening continues and my family’s even more cautious approach continues as we wait for T and JT to receive their vaccine.
Last March, I hoped for a vaccine by the close of 2020 and felt confident that we would be able to successfully flatten the curve to wait that out. I was wrong about our national ability to successfully flatten the curve and that inability has cost us dearly. More than 525,000 people are known to have died of Covid-19 in this nation, a number that is an astounding testament to our inability to work toward the common good for one another. That tragedy may be the greatest lesson of all, though right now we are unable to collectively learn from it.
Spring Break starts this afternoon and this year feels different. I will have some time off - a break that is sorely needed - and the perspective of this past year has taught me a great deal. In no particular order, it has taught me that resilience must be nurtured; that good leadership matters; to say I love you as often as the opportunity arises; to be grateful for science; to count my blessings and turn my face to the light whenever I can find it.
This day is the halfway mark on the last week before Spring Break. Flowers are in order and for a whole bunch of reasons.
I am wearing a Spring dress (with a warm cardigan - of course - but still……)
This school year has been so damn hard and the approaching Spring Break will get us over the hump to the last part of the year. I don’t like to wish away time but teaching hybrid in a pandemic is ridiculously difficult for all of us - students, teachers, and parents. The weeks we have been remote were also hard but remote is nothing compared to the challenge of teaching hybrid. The other side of Spring Break is just nine weeks of April and May instruction, all more bearable because the end is in sight.
Last year’s Spring Break was no break for me as the school frantically set up for remote homebound remote instruction. This year’s Break promises some actual time off. Add to that the chance for some enjoyable meanderings in New Jersey, thanks to the fact that I am vaccinated, and I am giddy about the coming break.
T gave me bulb-forcing vases for Christmas and a few weeks ago, I put some tulip bulbs to work.
This will be the last amaryllis post of 2021, as the flowers are beginning to fade.
But they kept me company through our snowy February and saw me through to the earliest signs of Spring. After a rainy close to February, last week was sunny and this week promises some days of sun and actual warmth, capped off by our Spring forward on the 14th. The days are gaining light at both sunrise and sunset, a happy development indeed.
Easter is the theme for this month and I am clearly ready for some Easter warmth, as I set out the decorations on the first of the month when plenty of snow could still be seen in the yard. The cast iron bunny is back on duty for the coming warm days.
As is my custom, I declared my own Spring this week. My closet is swapped out and Winter’s wool, corduroy, and tights have been tucked away for the season, replaced by brighter colors and sneakers. I even packed away my Winter coats in favor of some warmer weather models. In every way that counts, I am ready for Spring.
Even the bedding was swapped, though here I am practical and have a down comforter now enveloped in a fern duvet. Still quite warm for the cold nights but it looks like Spring.
Earlier today I received my second jab of the Pfizer vaccine and I could not be more grateful. When the state of New Jersey notified me that I could make my first vaccine appointment on February 9, I was one of just a few people at school to receive the notice. Since then, on almost a daily basis, more and more teachers are being vaccinated.
We are planning for school to be fully in session next September and the steady rate of vaccination in my state makes that plan feel more secure by the day. That was foremost on my mind when I received my first vaccine. Today, I’m feel relieved that going into the grocery store is no longer a chore fraught with danger. I will stay masked up until the CDC instructs otherwise and I don’t have plans to be in public places with much greater frequency until T and JT are vaccinated. But I did feel some of my anxiety ease with the second jab and for that I am feeling incredibly grateful.
The second pod of flowers opened toward the end of last week and it’s delivered five pretty flowers. These blooms, the steadily melting snow, the quickening pace of vaccines in the U.S., and some sunny days have lifted my spirits.
That’s happy!
I always look forward to March because its arrival puts Spring so much closer. By now, the days are steadily gaining sunlight; the time change is close; and there are usually signs of Spring blooms when I take the time to look closely.
I am the sort of person who does take the time to look closely; I am always eager for some sunlight and warmth. Our snowy February was one for the record books and so much snow remains in the flowerbeds at my house that I can’t yet see the tips of crocuses and daffodils peaking through. The branches of my trees have begun to form the small tight buds that signal the flowers that will proceed the leaves.
I know they are there and so does Old Man Tree, who looked beautiful draped in snow but I imagine longs for Spring as much as I do.
