Spring weather in Oregon can be a real mixed bag but it has been glorious recently, like every day since our house went into shutdown has been fantastically sunny and warm and I am so deeply grateful for that. I have been on what seems like about a million walks and everything is blooming and it’s been enormously cheering, the only thing that would make it better is if my state would go ahead and let its citizens buy the real Sudafed again because as long as everything has been turned on its head can we at least enjoy the drippy-nose-stopping effects of legally acquired pseudoephedrine?

Okay, I guess that’s not the only thing that could make it better, I can think of one or two other improvements as well, such as my friend’s restaurant business not having to lay off half their employees last week, but I’m just saying: seasonal allergies are salt in the wound right now, Sudafed prohibitors.

We drove to the cabin yesterday, figuring that would be okay as long as we didn’t stop on the way there or back, or do our usual visit to the little nearby store for snacks, and that ended up being a much-needed break from news and worry. The boys went out target shooting, and I spent my time sitting out by the river. There are buds and flowers everywhere, and a mother goose who has made a nest on the riverbank and sits there, waiting. She watched me carefully as I briefly approached to take a picture, and I tried very hard to send her some sort of mental message: I come in peace, fellow mama.

I’m very glad to report that little story did not end with a righteous goose attack because I probably would have deserved it (wings beating me around the head, hissing beak in my face: HOW’S THIS FOR THE ‘GRAM, STUPID CONTAGIOUS HUMAN?), but there was something so bolstering about seeing her there. Life goes on.

The flow of the river felt medicinal too, as did the ongoing hum of traffic. If there is one downside to the otherwise idyllic cabin setting, it’s that the property is right on a fairly active highway that connects I-5 and the coast. Oregonians have been heading to coastal towns in droves lately (I can’t point fingers since we also did not stay home yesterday, but the photos of crowded beaches sure don’t seem very socially distant), so there were quite a few cars adding to the calm peace of river noises and birds.

Instead of wishing as I often have that the rumble of a logging truck was not competing with the call of a hunting osprey, I found the traffic sounds pleasant in their own way. None of us knows what tomorrow will bring, but for the time being, life goes on.


3 Responses to “The hum of traffic”

  1. Donna on March 22nd, 2020 3:45 pm

    It’s soothing to me (and a little “the world without us”) that the trees and flowers and plants are like, pandemic? Silly humans, we’ll just be here doing our thing. We are not concerned with your problems.

  2. Emily on March 22nd, 2020 4:45 pm

    So peaceful and serene. Thanks for taking me there in my mind. And wtf, no REAL Sudafed? I live in Louisiana and my head would literally explode without it during this seasonal allergy cluster. How do you survive???

  3. Kim on March 22nd, 2020 5:06 pm

    This made me smile. Here in the southeast, we’re also experiencing Pollen-acolypse, but I’ve been so, so thankful for the pleasant weather for taking walks and back porch time with books.

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