Stillness in the Storm

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Determined to stay local in the summer of COVID-19, I find myself daydreaming about traveling. This past week alone, while knowing we aren’t going anywhere, did not stop me from looking at rentals on the Cape, in Stowe, Vermont, even out in the Southwest. Patagonia, Arizona, anyone? Moab, Utah?

It’s interesting that I’d never taken a road trip out of the Northeast until three years ago, and yet these days if I stay put too long, I fall into that sensation Anaïs Nin wrote about, “I’m restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again.”

Restless. Yes, that’s part of what I’m feeling.

Strangely, I’m also enveloped in a grounded peace simultaneously.

The Mount Washington Valley is currently insane with those who decided not to let the coronavirus keep them at home. I’m not sure we’ve ever seen crowds like we have this week. (We came across more out of state license plates than from New Hampshire today.) Their angst and anger, their rowdiness, and entitlement are palpable. The Conway Daily Sun ran a front-page article about how things are out of control. But here the three of us sit in our little hobbit hole, rarely venturing out of the yard, and I feel tranquil.

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Samwise and I do get out on our morning walks. Not in Jackson, though. We haven’t done that since Will was alive. We drive to Bartlett, Intervale, or Albany for discreet trails where the only souls we see are our brethren the trees; the only voices we hear belong to the birds and frogs, or rivers and streams. (Did you know that the reason frogs become vocal before a rainstorm is because it means they are going to have sex? They do it in rain puddles.)

Tom Ryan @TomandAtticusI know a place.

July 25th 2020

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Today, heading north above the notch, we encountered our first moose of the year. A female who could not be bothered to turn from the tree she was nibbling on, even though we pulled off the road and were right behind her.

Around noon and again just before dinner, we take a leisurely drive, so Emily gets to escape the house. We don’t go too far, usually. But even these forays have been fantastic.

I avoid the tourist traffic and prefer country roads rutted and uneven. We move slowly with the windows down so Emi can inhale the world from her window. Why rush pleasantries like this, especially when she is mostly refined to home? Looking in the rearview mirror, I enjoy watching her chin resting atop the open window, ears flying, eyes relaxed.

Yesterday, we saw our first bear of the year. A male, maybe two or three years old. Not very big. He was crossing the in front of us and slowed to watch us approach. I stopped the car; Sam and Emi sat upright; the bear lingered.

He was gawking as much as we were—interspecies curiosity. When he left the road, he stayed in the trees and watched, and we visited for a while. Black bears are inquisitive, and almost always harmless.

I am grateful Emily and Samwise are calm and not barkers in these kinds of encounters. Pretty sure, Mr. Bear was appreciative of that as well.

Today, heading north above the notch, we encountered our first moose of the year. A female who could not be bothered to turn from the tree she was nibbling on, even though we pulled off the road and were right behind her. Oh, if you could have seen Emily and Samwise’s nose working overtime then!

As I type, Zelenka’s Capriccio No. 1 in D plays, and Samwise accompanies it with soft snores. He’s only four, but he sleeps like an old soul. Emily is curled around my foot beneath the desk. I cannot see her, but knowing her well, her eyes are closed, but she’s always aware of my presence.

Today, between reading, writing, and rides, I’ve been in the kitchen. This also brings me peace. Even as I looked out the window and watched the backed-up traffic in our town with a population of only 800 residents. We used to only have one traffic jam a year—on the night of Fourth of July fireworks.

I experimented with the Almond Cow and made chocolate oat milk. I cannot tell you the last time I had healthy chocolate milk. What pleasure that brought me. (Don’t you love it when you learn something new?) Better yet, it didn’t have any of the gross chemical additives.

I stood by the sink and chopped red onions, stalks of celery, and cucumber for a three-bean salad. In between, I nibbled on pieces of chilled watermelon, tart cherries, and sliced pluots.

I’m in the middle of Dr. Will Bulsiewicz’s book Fiber Fueled. It’s a fascinating study of the microbiome. Studies report it’s healthiest if we eat a diversity of thirty different plant foods a week. I’ve never bothered counting, but this week I began keeping a journal.

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For the record, today I ate the following: a whole wheat everything bagel, blueberries, dates, pluots, celery, black beans, kidney beans, cannellini beans, whole oats, kale, spinach, baby bok choy, tomatoes, arugula, cucumber, celery, red onion, watermelon, cherries, beets, chia seeds, and ground flax seeds.

He also points out that while people often wonder where a person like me who doesn’t eat animals gets my protein, 97 percent of Americans eat far more protein than they need, while that same number does not eat the bare minimum requirement of fiber. About three percent eat the daily minimum of fiber.

Heck, when I was living on bacon and eggs, McDonald’s, and Chinese take-out, with a side of Ben & Jerry’s and Coca Cola for decades, the closest I came to eating vegetables and fruit were the gross lettuce, pickles, and tomatoes on a Big Mac. Oops, almost forgot the French fries.

Meanwhile, Emily and Samwise continue to eat a diet that includes meat and gnaw on bones. Folks often ask what they eat. I alternate foods for them every three months. When Atticus had a cancer scare, we worked with a nutritionist. She suggested rotating foods.

Samwise and Emily have different nutritional needs than me and different desires. Although I’ll admit, when I smell someone grilling out, I still enjoy the smell of burgers and BBQ chicken.

Emi’s rehab continues to go well. She’s placing more weight on her leg daily. It won’t be long before she is allowed to take leashed ten-minute-long walks three times a day. It’s nothing compared to what she used to do, but it’s much more than what she’s been doing. Progress will be slow but steady. I know she will not be running free until the middle of November, so I don’t worry about it. There’s no hurry.

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This morning, after a stop at Big Dave’s Bagels, where Samwise visited with Dave and Sue and was given roast beef, we walked in the Albany Town Forest for the first time in more than a month. It was good to be back there. As much as it’s good to be off on long walks now that Emily is okay with staying home, we both will be thrilled to have her back with us.

My thoughts go out to those who have been seeing the worst of COVID-19 in your areas this week, and those who are about to lose unemployment. I fear since we did not get on top of the virus from the beginning, and stay on top of it like other countries did, we’ll be haunted by this dreadful virus for the next couple of years.

Please, folks, hold onto yourselves.

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“Do not wait for life. Do not long for it. Be aware, always and at every moment, that the miracle is in the here and now.” ~ Marcel Proust

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