Sheltering in Place

Last fall, we brought home some bulbs to plant in anticipation for spring blooms. There were some hurdles between then and now, including renovating the house so we could move in, then further renovation to bring out its beauty, then stormy weather, then missing power cords, then traveling to Jerusalem, so the bulbs never made it into the ground.

They were finally planted in some empty celery boxes, which work perfectly, since the boxes are waxed and can stand up to extended moisture. All of the daffodils fit into three boxes, and the tulips went into a fourth box, with the remaining tulips finding a cozy, dank, dark home at the base of our still-potted apple trees.

The boxes of blooms sit in sunny spots, protected from strong winds, waiting it out until next fall, when surely, surely, we'll have the wherewithal to get them into the ground. They are sheltering in place.

Happy crowd

Sheltering in place

Our household has been sheltering in place quite cheerfully. We have each other for company and occasionally spend distanced time with the other farmers. From time to time we make forays into town to pick up supplies. We've been learning how to cook foraged food, discovering great recipes as well as the sporadic not-so-great recipe, who enjoys doing which errands or tasks or projects or chores. Some things get done right away. Other things don't need doing, as it turns out.

We've watched favorite movies, jig-sawed a puzzle, painted, weed-whacked, trimmed, sprouted, and attend almost-daily ooh-aahh tours, to admire each others' progress on the things we're discovering that we love to do. Mixed in there is planning a flower farm, writing a book, renovating a neighbor's house, harvesting farm produce, creating a temple, clearing an acre or so of blackberry bramble, uncovering a chicken coop, which is now our bike shed, and a chicken yard, which is now our firewood storage, and a huge hole in the ground, which would make a fabulous duck pond.

We are dreaming and doing and enjoying and being. And we are not alone.

There has been an impressive array of shelter-in-place projects that have flowed across our screens, entertaining and inspiring our fellow humans around the globe.

Juilliard students and alumni put together a stirring rendition of Bolero.

John Krisinkski, AKA Jack Ryan, reports on Some Good News every week.

Hallelujah brings a congregation closer, at a distance.

You can find makeup advise, from England.

Time travel.

Ski adventures on the floor.

An operatic family.

Animals at home in thick, urban jungles.

And balloon dogs.

Hundreds and hundreds more all speak to the fact that we are an amazing species, that we can get through anything, and that the planet will heal itself, whenever we're able to let it.

And because today is today, may the fourth be with you.

Finishing Touches

Years ago, Dambara and I spent 4 weeks in India, on a pilgrimage led by Asha Nayaswami, David Praver, and Durga and Vidura Smallen. About 35 pilgrims traveled around northern India, visiting places mentioned in the Autobiography of a Yogi, central to our spiritual path. We stayed in very nice hotels because it helped all of us recharge at the end of each day to come back to comfortable rooms, fabulous food, and hot showers.

Many of the hotels were luxurious; some were modest. All of them had one common aspect: neglected edges.

One hotel in particular stands out in my memory. We stayed in Badrinath, at the very northern tip of India, a stone's throw from Tibet, for two nights. It was a bone-rattling journey to and from, in jeeps that clattered along a breath-depriving, narrow, dirt road that was vaguely scratched out along the treacherous steepness of the Himalayan mountain sides. We arrived, drained from hours of terror, and checked into our rooms.

The hotel was very high end, with en suite rooms, tall windows, expansive dining room, and beautiful, marble slabs lining all of the walls, everywhere. But the hotel felt neglected to me, unfinished, untidy. It took me a while to realize that it was because all of the edges were unfinished.

Along the hallways, banquet rooms, dining hall, the beautiful marble flowed down the walls to meet the beautiful marble of the expansive floors. The jagged edges of the walls met the jagged edges of the floors, and those jagged junctions were dusted with bits of rubble, grit, and dust. It felt as though the hotel was still under construction, but it had been in operation for two years. It was finished.

Spring blooms, check!

Years earlier, traveling with a friend through Greece, again and again we had to pick our way past rubble scraped up against the side of enormous buildings; banks, office buildings, apartment buildings. Again, it felt like a construction zone, and yet on closer examination, it was obvious that the rubble had lain there for months, perhaps years. The ornate buildings were opulent, gorgeous feats of architecture, with high-end businesses and residences, but the attention to detail ended before it considered the unfinished edges. There they persisted, neglected and ignored.

Baseboards, check!

Edges are an important part of finishing touches. The renovation at Haven West doesn't feel complete until the edges are complete. The beauty and magnetism of the rooms blossom into being with the finishing touches that occur to one or the other of us.

Toast and bread counter, check!

And as the work spaces become more useful, we come across things in drawers or out of boxes that would make that spot prettier or easier to use. It's a work in progress, a creative process.

Outlet plates, check!

 We continue to surprise each other with creativity and thoughtfulness. Form and function cooperate to transform every corner of the house into spaces that we enjoy using, spending time in, sharing friendship and laughter.

It is a wonderful world.

Spice shelves, check!