There is an air of unreality hovering in the general atmosphere. Can all of this really be happening ... the news replete with inexorably growing tallies of pandemic victims, the world struggling to save itself from the intrusion of a tiny virus that has laid millions low, hundreds of thousands in intensive care, hospitals overwhelmed, nations' economies in tatters, and people everywhere confused and fearful. 

Lockdowns, tightening the screws on permissible social activities, all extraneous actions on tampdown leaving the most basic of needs to be carefully catered to -- at a distance, masked, cognizant of possibly infected surfaces, keeping distance, finding it difficult to maintain sanity. It's the mental tipple of thrills tinged with fear read of in thrillers and viewed in horror films.

But there is normalcy for those fortunate enough to find it, and some have. Normalcy is living life as best you can, reliant on catering to ordinary needs, safe shelter, food, medical attention if required, mental stimulation, physical exercise. Uncomplicated by the presence of dependents if you're elderly, focusing on the here and now and what can be done to ensure that even this straitened life is a treasure to be jealously guarded.

Another interminably long email received this morning from the 'Health First' medical clinic our family doctor works out of, informing us how much its patients mean to them, how their thoughts are with us all, and how they're working flat out to cope with the coronavirus and serve the best interests of their patients. Video-conference or telephone 'appointments' are available. No one is to consider dropping by the clinic without a prior appointment, not to drop off a document, not for anything. Many of its employees are working from home.

The clinic health collective urges their patients to call Ottawa Health for details regarding COVID vaccinations, but Health First urges its patients to acquire virus inoculations as speedily as possible when the opportunity rises, according to classification. These emails have been arriving fairly regularly for over a year. Just as well we haven't had a need to see a doctor in that time frame. We are, however, able to take our little dogs to the veterinarian hospital for physicals and annual shots, and to the grooming spa next door to it.

When my husband left the house soon after breakfast this morning his goal was to gas up the truck and bring home more of the same for the snow thrower. Which will likely see some significant action on the weekend, if the weather forecast is correct and no reason why it shouldn't be. He also had to drop by the bank -- closed, but the ATMs are available, and he only needed to make a withdrawal. At each ATM there is a large squirt bottle of disinfectant, over it a sign urging people to use it before and after using the machines. My husband noted those few people at the separate kiosks appear not to have read the sign. 

I realized this morning that there are many people walking singly, with or without dogs, in pairs and small family groups on the street. Normally, this very short street sees little traffic either motorized or people walking, other than its residents. Today I saw more walkers than I would normally see in a month, particularly in the winter months. Taking my cue from the walkers, I anticipated that when we went off later in the day for our usual afternoon spin through the forest trails we'd have lots of company. The 'wanderers', as my husband now calls the growing proliferation of casual hikers new to the ravine, appear to be growing in prevalence and numbers.

 

I had the impression yesterday that many among them carefully put on gloomy faces to match their unwillingness to acknowledge the presence of others ... not so much as a light-hearted 'hi!', as they pass, total failure to crack a smile when encountering one on someone else's face. So we were both pleasantly surprised on this mild-temperature day, well overcast, to encounter very few other people on the trails. Which made for a relaxed, enjoyable hour-and-a-half of leisurely strolling for Jackie and Jillie and we two.

We returned home to the fragrance of chicken soup simmering on the stove in preparation for dinner. And the sweet scent of a fruit pie still lingered as well, from the pie cooling on the kitchen countertop. I'd decided I hadn't baked a berry pie in quite awhile. Which is when those frozen mixed berries -- strawberries, raspberries, blackberries and blueberries contained in a frozen plastic pouch comes in handy for a pie filling, and tastes so very good.