Shelter in Place, San Francisco, November 24, 2020
On this, my first visit to the garden since my most recent surgery, I am surprised by the flowers inhabiting this interim in which those summer blooms that prefer the heat are on the wane. The morning’s cool, crisp air reminds me (almost) of climates farther east, and I’m surprised and pleased to see a few sweet tea roses - encouraged by a recent gentle rain - among the winter daisies. Soon enough the roses will be good and truly gone so that in January I will be able to feed and prune them for the coming spring. I’m not in a hurry. If nothing else, this year I have learned how to wait.
It was not only the garden that felt different today. This morning, I woke to something unfamiliar - optimism, I think it’s called. For the first time in months - maybe years - I pulled up the latest headlines without a sense of dread and outrage. Yesterday’s news (finally) of regime change gave promise that soon enough the smart, hard-working grownups will return to lead us out of these, the country’s darkest days. Meanwhile, the week's increasingly good immunization news tempers, at least, the dread of the current catastrophic infection rates and offers our first vision of a life beyond the fence. And, miracle of miracles, I was able to lift my leg high enough to get my own pants on by myself this morning and to imagine a time when I will be able to walk and work in the garden without pain! Optimism. Patience. The holidays already hold more light and promise today than they did yesterday - a manageable interim, a time of hope and progress, as we dare to imagine the life that is to come.