Spring in a time of pandemic

Shakespeare's phrase "the winter of our discontent" may need revision for our era, as a springtime lockdown has spread across much of the world, sparking all manner of discontent (and fortunately, all manner of creativity, much of it positive). My winter in Yucatan (and that of thousands of others) was cut short, my travel companion and I heading back to Ohio on St Patrick's Day. Many of those who opted to wait a bit longer faced all manner of travel difficulties, but we were lucky. (I credit my tendency to anticipate the worst with getting us out of Mexico before the airlines started canceling flights.) Other than a long layover and not much of a hotel breakfast due to pandemic restrictions on businesses, we arrived home without incident and have experienced no coronavirus symptoms during our 14-day quarantines, which end tomorrow. Thus far, all of our expat and Mexican friends report themselves healthy as well.

We know, however, that the beautiful towns where we stayed are not having an easy time. With the travel industry basically shut down for the duration, many people are out of work. With restaurants closed and many of the Norteamericanos gone for the season or forever, fisherfolk have lost their best customers. With beaches, many parks, and most businesses closed, street vendors are out of work. Without a ready supply of cash, many Yucatecos are unable to stock up on food and supplies and so must visit the remaining mercados more than is prudent--if they have money to shop at all. Food relief has been set up in many towns, along with severe travel restrictions. A number of places we have visited are allowing no one but permanent residents to enter, with roadblocks common. The good news from Yucatan is that there have been no Covid-19 deaths as of this writing.

And despite the problems faced by humans, spring is springing. Every day I wake to birdsong. Robins are busily foraging for nesting materials, which my messy yard provides in abundance. Cardinals are preparing to nest in our streetside maple for the fourth year in a row, woodpeckers are drumming in the arboretum, and lots of small feathered somethings have taken up residence in our old Norway spruce, not something I would ever plant but which definitely seems to be providing nesting and roosting sites for the neighborhood. Even the kousa dogwoods are being checked out as potential family homes.

The approach of April in the Ohio Valley means lots of bloom. Besides all the non-natives that we associate with spring, our native violets and spring beauties are doing their thing, indicating a good year for fritillaries and other insects.

And while we humans classify dead nettle as a weed, swaths of the stuff are pleasing to the eye--and more important, a nectar source for early bees.

We do not generally think of daffodils as wildlife habitat, but I have seen bees and early crickets in them, and two days ago had to rehome a tiny spider that arrived in our kitchen via a daffodil cup (not this one, but it is a favorite variety).

Much of our human world may be at a standstill, but life does go on.

Thoughts on a beach walk

Humans

try to hold back the sea

The K'awis

on a palm frond

rides the wind.