Little Things

Signs of spring and a bunch of scented snowdrops from the garden of a socially distanced friend have helped to lift spirits that dampened occasionally over recent weeks.  February is the shortest month but seems to have taken the longest time to come and go.  What is it that tricks us to think some days fly by and others feel every minute takes an hour?

I expect there have been highs and lows for everyone, to varying degrees, but all relative to their starting point.   It doesn’t matter where that sits in the much wider scheme, it’s the ups and downs we each feel that require self-validation.  I think it is too easy to criticise ourselves.  Fed-upness now and again is not a weakness, it is understandable under the present circumstances.   Weeks of relentless rain with little prospect of a break from the tedium of sameness, concern about Covid statistics, new variants and anti-vaccine propaganda, resulted in a couple of moody days under clouds of doom and gloom.

As was clearly stated in my first blog post, the fundamental premise of is to seek the positives in these times of restriction, so in keeping with my own intentions, the importance of the little things was given due consideration.  It hasn’t been difficult to find many to add to the blessings count.  How positive is that?

What a pleasure it was to see blue skies and families trudging up the hill to the nearest sledge-worthy slope.  I was happy to provide a carrot for the nose of a nearby snowman.  It was great fun to start a snowball fight with a few of the drive-clearing neighbours.  We could gather ammunition and take aim, but avoid being pelted because, due to appropriate distancing, the trajectory of the missiles could be easily judged.  That all happened because one of them rang the bell to offer a hand to clear my path and I couldn’t resist the urge to revisit my childhood.

During the next snowy time, four layers of Rohans, boots and my walking pole provided suitable equipment for the expedition to visit the practice nurse who administered my very welcome vaccination – note the age bracket give-away.  The little girl who tied the balloons and Happy Vaccination Day greeting to my gate is too young to understand fully the delight her gesture brought and my need to wipe a wee tear of joy at her thoughtfulness.  Those balloons are still tied to the coat stand and glow in the dark when I give them a tap.  I am very easily amused!

The pot of three hyacinth bulbs bought for £3 has yielded six creamy white heads and provided days of their distinctive fragrance to delight my olfactory senses.  A call from a friend who was given the all clear, a photograph announcing the safe arrival of another friend’s granddaughter, a carton of special oatcakes brought for me from the special oatcake shop and a satisfactory outcome to a parcel delivery problem of my own making all contributed to regaining a sense of equilibrium.

It hasn’t taken much soul searching to find enough to tip the balance now in favour of the positives.  A few sunny days in a row, vaccination targets being met, and another month of my family and friends remaining well do add weight.  For avoidance of a major mood swing I will steer clear of political comment relating to world issues or the shenanigans going on too close for comfort.  Instead of being drawn into each repetitive news bulletin, I watched a recommended feel-good film The Peanut Butter Falcon.  It was a delight from start to finish.

Review of what I have written reveals more than a hint of egocentricity!  That was not the intention when I started.  Can I broaden it a bit by suggesting that everybody can benefit from checking in with themselves now and again, if only to show where possibilities present for us to do what seems a small thing but might have further reaching effects than the little effort it takes to do.

I heard an epidemiologist say that the vaccination programme will change the landscape.  Let’s wait and see, but while we wait with as much patience as we can muster, the crocuses colour the verges and the daffodils are not far behind.  We might have changed in many ways, not least in waist girth and hairstyle during this long winter lock down, but the moon still shines and day follows night.   The landscape will change because nature dictates.  Our view of it will be different when we can venture beyond the five mile limit.

Regular readers might be wondering where my Granny fits in with all of this. She would have plenty to say about how we should be thankfu’ for sma’ mercies, and I wouldn’t dream of arguing with that. She’s also in my fond memory of listening on a Sunday morning to Family Favourites and singing along with Kitty Kallan. Click on the link and sing along. I offer no apology for being so obvious…

Little things mean a lot.

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