A Different View

In an increasingly challenging attempt to kill two birds with one stone by getting in some steps while actually going somewhere, I walked the three miles up to my brother's house this afternoon. There, he and my sister-in-law and I spent a pleasant hour sitting six feet apart outside in the warm afternoon sun.

When it was time for me to come home, I ducked around the corner to a bike share station to take advantage of the downhill route. Perhaps it was the wind in my hair, but as I was pedaling, it seemed like a fine idea to pursue a more meandering path, and so I cut through the neighborhoods and past our school.

Once there, I could not simply ride by the deserted brown brick building that has been my work place for so many years. No, I steered the bike past the garden and around to the front and paused on the walkway in front of my classroom. The window faces west, and the golden April afternoon sun shone on it like a mirror. I squinted to see the bookshelves, the chalkboard, or something else inside, but all I saw was me on a borrowed bike remembering how the light used to fall across my desk at just this time of the day.

Stuck in the Middle

After several days of mild weather and many spectacular hours spent outside, the sunshine and blue skies today are such a tease when north winds gusting up to 30 mph bluster out there as well. Oh, we took our daily walks, but each time, streets transformed into howling wind tunnels turned us back in disappointment.

At home, I pulled out a the turtlenecks, fleece, and flannel for what could be their last turn of the season, put on a big pot of soup, and there will be a fire crackling on the hearth before dark. Such are the comforts of a cold day!

Just as the season can't make its mind between winter and spring, I guess I can't either.

Socially Distant Urban Adventures

Over the last several weeks I have expanded my knowledge of the immediate neighborhood, discovering places and paths I like to call "super secret" between and behind the historic garden condos right up the hill. I've found meandering 3-5 miles routes through the adjoining neighborhoods as well, up steep hills and past all manner of tear-downs and renovations.

On some days, we pile the dog into the car and take off for nearby places, too, as long as we're confident they won't be as crowded as the bike trails and running paths that everyone is desperate to use. An early hour is always helpful, as is a cloudy day, and this morning we made our way to the Washington Harbour at the foot of Georgetown.

At 8:45 AM traffic was light and we were there in 10 minutes, an amazement of its own. From there we walked the boardwalk south toward the boat house, crossed a bridge over Rock Creek and entered the C&O canal at its origin and followed it a couple of miles north counting the turtles basking in the sun, where we turned down some stone steps to pick up the Capital Crescent Trail.

By then the bike traffic was a bit heavier, and it was time to turn back toward the city, so we followed the river on a paved path lined with vetch, wisteria, dewberries, honeysuckle and purple dead nettle, past a sycamore tree garlanded with a dozen crested cormorants perched high above their usual watery domaine, under the old stone aqueduct, and through a landscaped park to our starting point.

Pandemic Productivity

The other morning I was lying on the floor trying to find the energy to put my sneakers on when my gaze landed on the top of the closet door. I'm not exaggerating when I say that we have been muscling one of the two doors open and closed for ten years, because its track is bent. It's just one of those things that never quite rises to the level of "need to repair immediately!", and there you have it.

But on this particular day, I saw how simple it would be to remove the faulty track and replace it with a functioning version. It literally looked like a six-screws-out, six-new-screws-in job. Still on the floor, I searched for the part at a nearby big box home improvement store, and saw that it cost about 18 dollars. And so, a project was hatched.

The new parts sat in the corner for a few days, but yesterday I was determined to get that repair done, but I found that the battery on my cordless driver was dead. This afternoon, battery charged, I headed upstairs to conquer that closet door.

Despite my awareness of how heavy they were, getting the doors off was harder than I thought. Once they were propped against the foot of the bed, I climbed the step ladder to remove the bracket. Unfortunately, those screws had been in there for thirty-five years and a couple of paint jobs, and they did not yield to me like the hot knife through butter I imagined. Thank goodness I have been doing some arm exercises, because it took some over the head muscle to get those suckers moving.

Once the old track was out, I eagerly unwrapped the new one and read the directions. It was a straight-forward installation, and I lifted the new piece to the top of the closet frame. Except... it didn't fit. I angled and re-angled and pushed and tapped with a hammer, but despite being standard-sized, the dang thing was literally a quarter inch off.

Sighing, I looked at the toolkit and my eye fell on the hacksaw.

Could I?
I could.

Thirty minutes of brute finesse later, I had SAWED THROUGH METAL and was ready to continue the project. And this time, everything went according to plan. The track went up; I replaced the hardware on the doors, I swung them into place, and installed the bottom track. For the first time in a decade, our closet doors open as they should.

Perhaps there is a better way to fill my pandemic isolation time than with long put off do-it-yourself home projects, but what would that be?

Another Silver Lining

We met a couple of friends for a walk this morning. Ever mindful of social distance, we planned to meet early at a place we hoped would offer more than enough space for the four of us (and 2 dogs) to walk and chat. That's how we found ourselves in front of a deserted Natural History Museum right around 9 AM.

"It only took me 10 minutes to get here!" Mary reported gleefully.

"And parking was a breeze!" I replied, just as enthusiastically.

It may have been the overcast weather, but the wide gravel paths were practically ours alone as we strolled first up to the Capitol and around the grounds, but the sun was shining and the skies were blue by the time we turned toward the Botanical Gardens. It was hard not to feel anything but lucky to be able to enjoy one of most beautiful cities in the world on a day like this.

After that, it seemed impossible to do anything else except walk the full loop down past the Washington Monument, to the Lincoln Memorial and back. By then? There were a few more people and a little less parking, but we were ready to head home.

Age before...

I got up early, drove to the grocery store, and put on my mask, but when the first set of glass doors whooshed open, I was stopped by a burly young man, also in a mask, his arms crossed.

"Are you open?" I asked.

"We are," he nodded, "but only to shoppers 60 and over."

"Dang!" I said. "I'm 58." (Or... I will be in June.)

"Really?" he replied.

"Yep," I answered, pulling down my mask.

"You can go in, then," he told me.

Inside there were several shoppers all politely keeping social distance. Some wore masks, some did not; most were loading up on produce and lean proteins. I think I fit right in.

Rejoice and Be Glad

The sun was shining in a brilliant blue sky streaked with just a few high clouds this morning when I took the dog out. Cherry blossoms have subsided to pink crab apple and red bud, and the tulips are in full bloom. I even saw azaleas and lilacs that were close to flowering. The air was cool, but the sun was warm, and the birds were going nuts. It was impossible not to feel happy and even a bit hopeful.

Just then we ran into a neighbor and her dog. "This is the day!" she hailed me.

"What day?" I asked. "The day the Lord made?"

We laughed, because it was true, but we both knew it wasn't what she meant.

"This is the day that turns the corner from winter to spring," she told me. "I don't know... I just feel it in the air."

I had to agree.