Fifty days housebound, we remain in the security of four walls as the pandemic rages on.
In New England, frost covers the ground this morning, laying thick on the green grasses of mid-May. It was 70 degrees two days ago. Last week it snowed.
The weather is as changeable as our moods.
Working remotely, I spend my days doing much of the same tasks I did at the office; but I feel an undercurrent of uneasiness -- something is terribly wrong.
"There is nothing like staying home for real comfort," wrote Jane Austen.
Yes, Jane, but despite the comfortable confines of home, we grapple with weariness, fear and sadness.
God, help us!
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| View from picture window: purple azaleas dusted in snow. |
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| The steep pitch of the barn clings to snowy pine needles. |
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| Flag waves with each frigid blast. |
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| Evergreens decorated with late April snow. |
