As I said in my last post I seem to be having trouble concentrating on anything and am, thus, feeling a bit useless. My routine, which I prize amongst all things, isn’t serving its purpose. Or should I say, I’m not serving its purpose? I still get up at six, make coffee, and come straight to my work-room where I pick up my notebook and pencil, but the usual exciting spillage of ideas onto the pages isn’t happening. Instead I jot down something about the latest news and then sit and stare until my coffee goes cold.
I’m rather hoping that now we’re in lockdown in Scotland, with all non-essential movement prohibited, I’ll settle. Not because the prohibition of movement is something I’ve been longing for, but because knowing what I can and can’t do usually anchors me. I can make decisions when I know where I am, even if that’s a really bad place. I suspect that goes for most people: it’s not knowing; not knowing what you can and can’t do; not knowing what’s coming; not knowing what’s next and if it’s going to hurt or not, that drives us nuts and makes us act out of character. I think last week I was grieving for my normal, now I know it’s gone for the foreseeable future I actually feel better. I can make some plans, even if those plans are only what to have for supper.
As one walk (or cycle or run) for daily exercise is allowed Husband and I decided to add ‘daily walk’ to our routine*. Normally we exercise separately: he by donning waders and going fishing, me by jumping up and down on a trampoline for an hour. But, as it means being out of the house for most of the day, we assume fishing is off limits now. So walking together up Gallow Hill feels like a good compromise, and we’re hoping it will allow us to experience the arrival and development of spring to the full.
We had our first foray yesterday, it was freezing at the top, freezing and windy, but we saw buzzards displaying, and a pair of ravens flying overhead. We haven’t seen ravens over Gallow Hill before so are hoping they’re nesting nearby and we’ll see a whole family of them this summer.
We also saw a dunnock, a wren, and heard a coal tit singing. Today we saw jays and heard a chiffchaff (our first migrant of the season), and wandered down to Tank Wood on our way home to pick wild garlic. So we not only got a good bit of exercise, we also got dinner, and we only saw two other couples and a lone dog walker, all of whom were way more than the recommended two meters away. I think this is the way forward.
*Which also includes watching an episode of The Good Place every morning, in bed, with coffee, once Husband’s awake.
Header image: John Salvino on Unsplash