LIFE IN A TIME OF CORONA 3.
I stood looking out of the kitchen window. Hardly a breeze; everything very still. Early violets studding the grass; those last daffodils; the may pushing through the privet. The unconscious persistence of nature set against listening to the Canon Triplex In omnem terram exivit sonus eorum by Benedetto Marcello from the radio, caught by chance at that moment. Tears streamed.
It’s too easy to interpret that persistence through the medium of the emotions, as if these synchronous moments represent some kind of absolute compact between nature observed and our attempts to frame the numinous through music. But Covid 19, the latest in a group of disabling corona viruses, is moving amongst us with the same unconscious persistence. And to the epidemiologist that microscopic floret-bearing globe will have beauty too, even as it exploits our immune systems through sickness and maybe into death.
Spring is officially wide open on Friday and with its cautious warmth and early blooming we’ll feel hope as we open doors and step into it. Easy to emotionalise the big, pale blue skies and the sudden blossom amongst the spiny branches still pushing out their buds. The best we can manage amidst the fecundity of Covid 19 is fear.
sisyphus 
You’re right, it’s easy to emotionalise Spring. I’ve started trying not to. I decided that doing so contributes to making Winter potentially depressing. I’ve been going round all Winter telling myself that the disappearance of all the greenery was just like me shaving my hair off, and the life was going on quite happily underneath it all, that it was just a phase in the burgeoning cycle of life, that I’d been in danger of anthropomorphizing nature, etc. Winter is the time, too, when the stars shine most brightly. If I try hard I can almost enjoy it.
I always miss the stars in the summer. Other than when I wake in the small hours & there they are in the brief darkness. We’ve just come back from a walk along the fields. We walked past a mum with 3 girls & a retriever. As soon as they saw us they veered off the path. Not such a sacrifice for a Southern Brit, I guess!