Leo Tolstoy once wrote ‘Spring is the time of plans and projects.’ Yet here at home in Caithness, the ninth week of lockdown meant plans and projects put on hold. Keeping up with the daily cycles of homeschool, home work and domesticity leaves us feeling that boredom might be a luxury. Half-weeded patches of garden glare in through patio windows, as if to illustrate the point.

The weather turns from sun, to rain, to raging winds that scatter blossom from the weighty branches of the cherry tree. The grass is pink with confetti, in the same spot where just a few weeks ago, a snowman was being built. Daffodils give way to blossom and blossom gives way to bluebells, and in the distance, summer waits to join the cycle. The world gives and takes in a bittersweet story of change and permanence – a never-ending carousel of loss, new growth, departure and renewal. I read a post by my friend Andrea, on nostalgia for moments that have not yet left and am comforted that I am not the only person in the world to feel this way. I miss the cherry blossom before it ever leaves the tree, grieve the empty nest before the chicks depart. It gives me an intense appreciation, I think, of the moment I am experiencing, an evocation of memento mori – ‘remember you too will die’ – that timeless, beautiful caution on the transience of living. To some, this kind of foreshadowed nostalgia will seem melancholy, but to me it’s a reminder to be grateful for every moment. To fully appreciate the most simple and spectacular joys of life in whatever form they take.

Outside, I see those simple joys played out in nature, in lives that pay no heed to lockdown. The birds and bees carry on with their plans and projects regardless – two gulls setting up residence in the field in front of us, surveying small kingdoms from a lamppost they man both day and night. Soon, there will be fledglings staggering around our front garden, prompting concern from my children, who will be convinced these younglings have been abandoned, only to see them fly off into the world with gusto. A cuckoo, too, calls from the vicinity of our neighbourhood – something I realise with delight I have never before heard from my front door. Two ducks wander around the field, looking bored and restless, edged by the windows and doors that frame our entertainment. We peer out at them between the colourful rainbows we made nine weeks ago – bright arcs of gratitude we stuck with hope and blu-tack to the glass.
At the end of the week, we hear that lockdown in Scotland will be easing, and that from the end of the month, we will be granted small freedoms, such as the chance to see members of another household. Outdoor swimming will be allowed, we can travel short distances, the world will return to its past life in steps which are cautious, monitored and phased. I look forward to seeing family and friends, but at the same time feel strangely nostalgic for these past weeks, with their legacy of empty streets, closed doors and hearts filled with awakening.
The wind rages outside my window but I am grateful for both the storm and the sunshine.
I know Spring will return again. For now, she is busy with her plans.
Gx
Beautifully written 👏
Thank you so much. x
I work for Penguin Random House. Books are my life. I’m not in Editorial, I’m their Technical Director, but I recognise elegant writing when I see it, and you are very talented. Best of luck to you. There aren’t enough wordsmiths in the world. You are one of them 😘
Oh that’s really lovely. Thank you for saying that. It means a lot to know my words are connecting. I hope you have a lovely week. X
You too! X
Hello Gail, I enjoy your Instagram account so much that I thought I would pop over to your blog to enjoy your writing. Blogland used to be my habitat too (at https://occasionalscotland.blogspot.com) before I crossed over to the Instagram side. There are joys in both but in this lockdown period I’ve been particularly enjoying the slower pace and more fully developed thoughts of blogs. Like you I am never bored these days, although only husband and one of my young adults in the house working from home. I take my hat off to everyone who is homeschooling! Despite having very full days I can see I’m going to have to carve out time to read back through your blog – it’s such a delight.
Yes, I’m very familiar with nostalgia for the present moment. I remember it many years ago at the time of my university finals in Aberdeen, trying to live the moment desperately while knowing that it was slipping away, snow falling heavily outside my window while blackbirds sang from every blossoming tree. Probably the first time I experienced it that I remember was the last day of school when I was in Primary 2. I was sitting in the classroom with a bunch of roses from the garden for the teacher and I was suddenly aware that I would never have this moment again and that it had passed even as I lived it. Another nostalgia that can afflict me is for happiness unrecognised at the time but only later. One French writer captured it as “le bonheur, cette chose qui n’est jamais mais qui pourtant un jour n’est plus”. And like you, I already feel nostalgia for these suspended yet vibrantly alive and meaningful days of lockdown. All very philosophical for first thing in the morning – better get on with today’s long list of bringing-the-garden-under-control!
Hi Linda, and thankyou for your lovely comment. I’m so glad you decided to pop by! I also find that I prefer the ‘long form’ aspect of blogs right now, I don’t seem to to be able to connect as well with the shorter style of social media captions. I love your examples of nostalgia for the present moment. You must have been a very perceptive child to think about that at such a young age. X
Springtime is a time for changes and reflection. I find it sad when they beautiful pink blossom of the trees say their final farewell. This is beautifully written and I too am grateful for the storm and the sunshine that follows. I hope things turn around soon xx
Thanks Susan. I love that thought about changes and reflection. Hope you and your family are having a good week. X
Those photos are sooo lovely! On the other hand, the pandemic sure ruined most of our plans as it came so abruptly and unexpectedly. Hope it leaves the same way tho!
Your blog is so refreshing to read, looking forward to see more in the future. Wishing us a great week!
Thankyou so much for reading. Wishing you a great week too. 🙂
Woah, goosebumps all over, Gail! This is so beautiful and I can relate 100%. You know that I’m already feeling nostalgic for this period in lockdown and have my concerns that I will miss it when it’s all over. So much so that I don’t feeling I’m doing it justice half the time! As the lady above said, you’re a true wordsmith and I can’t wait until your first book is published because I know that it will be a success. xx
Aww, thank you Suzanne, the wordsmith comment makes me very happy. I never think of myself that way – it’s lovely to hear that people enjoy the things I write. xx