The clouds parted; the stars aligned. The little things that needed to fall into place did so as did some of the larger things, and on we went.

On the large end, the weather decided to moderate. I was able, at last, to get the garden going. Usually, I plant around Mothers’ Day weekend, but that brought frost. F-R-O-S-T. The white stuff that clings to grass after a chilly damp night. A few days later, we had to turn on the air conditioning. I don’t deal well with hot weather, so only short ventures in the yard with Oakley and early morning walks were on the daily agenda. Memorial Day brought cold and rain. Not a good weekend for planting.

And then there was more heat, and then, finally, this past Monday brought a window of a few days suitable for outdoors work without risk of heat stroke, so Oakley and I went to a local home improvement center and bought tomatoes in various sizes and colors and some herbs. We went to the other home improvement center and bought more herbs and some flowers this morning. Another trip to the blast furnace is on the weather horizon, but no matter since the plants are in the ground. I threw in a few green bean seeds for posterity, too.

Also in the large department, the state of Illinois opened up this past Friday. With a sigh of relief, I went back to yoga class in person. It was good to see the people there, and good to open my eyes after savasana (the relaxation pose that usually closes out classes to give your mind/body a chance to process what it’s learned), look out the studio window, and watch the gentle sway of the locust tree’s branch in the breeze.

In the small department, I shopped in person at the Aldi in town for the first time since…well…all this began. I needed a handful of minor items, not enough to justify a curbside pickup at the big grocery store that’s 15 miles away. I masked up, went inside, grabbed cucumbers, a little fruit, yogurt, those sorts of things, paid, and went back to the car. The first song was a choral arrangement of “Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring” featuring Alison Balsam on trumpet. I choked up with gratitude–my family and friends were/are still here (not counting one friend of a friend whom I’d enjoyed conversations with at gatherings at a mutual friends house. May her memory be a blessing). It was safe to shop in person again. And I was there, here, to do it.

And to plant my garden.

And to start the world over again.

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