Today marks a year since the pandemic became a very real factor in all our lives. The day that we were first locked down – an unprecedented happening that no one could have predicted. The day that R numbers, case numbers and a rising national and global Covid-related death toll cast a cloud over all of our lives.
At midday we say a prayer for all those people who have lost their lives and those who have lost loved ones as a result of this devastating disease. It’s also a moment to reflect and give thanks for all those who have carried us through it. And for remembering the collective spirit that has helped us through the darkest and toughest times and will hopefully continue to do so.
At the same time life is beginning to get some elements of normality back and so we begin to mentally adjust. Last night I had an al fresco sunset drink on The Flats with a friend who is moving back to her home town of Ulverston in the Lake District. We sat on coats on the still damp ground, thermals still on for when the sun went down. It was fun and liberating but the temptation to just give up and hug is getting stronger by the minute. I’m definitely feeling the need for carefree physical connection.
The lack of human touch is perhaps one of the factors that has made gardening so popular during this time. It is a way to connect with nature, of which we are a part. It is a way to connect with something bigger than ourselves. Plants and soil are tactile and tangible and sensory and awe-inspiring and ultimately therapeutic. We may not be able to hug a friend but we can hug a tree or nurture a seed or shrub in the meantime.
As I’m waiting for some amends to various contracts this week and can’t get on with work as dynamically as I’d like, I’m going to give myself over to gardening today. It’s also a way to try and positively mark this sobering anniversary somehow. To transform tears and sadness and stress and anger into digging and raking and sowing seeds of hope.