Lock-down – When Life Gives You Lemons

In Praise of Small Things

One year, my son bought me an adorable Flow calendar featuring an illustration of a tiny pleasure for every day. These tiny pleasures might be something as simple as observing a new bloom or a chat with a friend or the first coffee of the morning. Anything that brought a smile would qualify. As I tore off each page, it encouraged me to look more closely at the world and appreciate how little things are often what give us most joy.

Then lockdown arrived and my already circumscribed life became even more constricted. While shielding, I could visit medical establishments, but not much else and my world became my house and garden and the few blocks surrounding it – with occasional thrilling trips to the countryside. I had a choice: go completely bonkers within the straight-jacket of restrictions or find another way to expand my world.

Observing the world from the window. But her mug says it all. Image: Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

Look closer

Perhaps it was an early obsession with Mary Norton’s The Borrowers or residual childhood memories of fairies in the garden, but I have always been acutely aware that there is a lot more going on than what we see on the surface. If your world seems small, the trick is to change perspective and look closer. Just as a tiny drop of pond water appears as nothing interesting; put it under a microscope and it will be transformed. There will be a whole world of activity, including tiny creatures too small to detect with the human eye. From what at first seems insignificant and lifeless, emerges something very much alive.

Though I haven’t (yet) embarked on any scientific investigations, I have made greater efforts to look much more closely at the world. And my, how magnificent it is! While at the dog park, I started studying the bark on the trees. Every tree was quite different: some barks were smooth to the touch and some entirely rough. Most showed scars, and many were carbuncled with mounds of either undeveloped branches or parasitic growth. Many were covered in lawns of yellow and green lichen – but, of course, mainly on their north facing sides.

What worlds are contained here. Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

In the garden, if you are willing to sit for a while and refocus, there is endless activity in even a square metre of ground: ants scurrying on their errands; bees and butterflies making brief forays into flowers and beetles with their glorious, iridescent carapaces glinting and colour shifting in the sun.

Starting small

Spring is the perfect time to start thinking small. The season is tentative, knowing that blasts of winter can reappear at any moment with sometimes devastating consequences. So Nature has learned to keep things somewhat miniature until the dangers have passed. The earliest flowers are crocus, snow drops, wood anemones, pansies and violets huddling inconspicuous and close to the ground. Only once the promise of warmer weather seems more certain are they joined by their larger, more showy relatives: daffodils and paperwhites; camellias and hyacinths.

First flowers. The delicate beauty of snowdrops. Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Zoom in

A good friend has recently acquired a macro lens for her phone and sends me gorgeous images almost daily of all the objects and plants she has photographed. Many are unrecognisable so close up, but all have a fascinating attraction. In them, the everyday becomes exotic, almost surreal. The components that make up the stigma and stamen of a flower with the background of vibrant petals looks like some forgotten Georgia O’Keefe painting.

My favourite is of a little piece of moss – now an abundance of green flowers. But what makes it extra special is the Green Man peeking out from the foliage centre right. I’ll let you look for it!

Of course, not all of us have such a lens, but we can still look much more closely at the everyday, perhaps focusing on a particular angle or segment. Either way, the familiar will become strange; the ordinary, fantastical.

Miniature appeal

Lastly, we are programmed to love small things. We may collect tiny charms for a bracelet or have an intricate train set layout. And who doesn’t love kittens and puppies? Small, cute things awaken the nurturing side of us. They need our protection and to be handled with care. Their size and fragility make them precious. And we simply love toys!

We also prefer things which do not pose a threat. Since we are bigger than these tiny things, we feel more powerful and in control when placed in relation to them. In times such as these, a sense of both is to be welcomed.

The appeal for me, though, is in the way that they expand my horizons by proffering a whole new vista in a scaled down form. Our brains, it seems are programmed to respond in such a way. According to Mentalfloss.com, ‘Research has shown that our gaze—and likely our touch too—is drawn to the regions of a scene or object that hold the most information. Part of our attraction to miniatures may be that they provide our sensory-seeking brains with highly concentrated dosages of tantalizing stimulation.’

Miniature humour. Image: Hello I’m Nik on Unsplash

While our movements may be restricted, our minds certainly are not. With a little imagination and a willingness to look a little closer, we can make, as John Donne did with love, ‘…one little room an everywhere.’

Life is what happens – Part 2

As we enter our second full lock-down, it is more important than ever to see what benefits we can take from the first. The arrival of the vaccine is a beacon of hope, but of course, vaccines must be made, those delivering it trained and those receiving it administered. It will certainly be weeks, if not months, until any kind of normality returns. We could, as so many folks are doing, complain about the delay, or we could make the most of this hiatus from normal life. Since this blog is entitled, ‘When life gives you lemons,’ you know which approach I’ll be taking.

Living Simply

Since the first lock-down, my husband and I have been managing on rather less than half pay. We imagined that our carefully reserved savings would be wiped out; that our standard of living would plummet. Yet, ironically, we haven’t touched our emergency fund and our standard of living has never been better. Of course, we haven’t been on holiday or out to restaurants. We haven’t bought much in the way of clothes or had haircuts (though I could certainly do with one!) Living simply at home has meant that what we actually need is very little. Realising this has been liberating.

Simple and delicious! Homemade summer squash and vegetable soup and bread. Thanks to YouTube, I learned how to freeze my glut of squashes. Image: Jeff Costello-McFeat

Of course, none of this would have been possible without the generosity of the government furlough scheme, which ensured my husband kept his job and worked as much or as little as the pandemic allowed. Many of his colleagues in the US lost their jobs and I can all too well imagine how distressing that situation would be. So though Boris bashing may be a national pastime at the moment, having peered over the brink of an economic abyss, I am eternally grateful that I live in a country where, no matter what happens, your basic needs will be met.

God bless the NHS

Equally, I cannot say how much I treasure a health service that is free at the point of delivery. Trying to stay well during a pandemic is stressful enough; trying to work out how to pay for medical care should you require a prolonged hospital stay falls into the realm of nightmare. We are so used to this luxury that we forget that for almost all the rest of the world, it is an impossible dream.

I loved that we all stood out and applauded those front-line workers who care for us, but we need to show that we fully respect them by doing everything in our power to stay well and, equally vitally, to keep everyone else well too.

Working from home

As someone who has worked from home for the past eighteen years, I am well aware of its benefits. But for those used to the crazy hours and even crazier commutes of modern life, it has been a revelation. People who once had to rise at 6.30 to have any hope of getting to work before 9.00, can now enjoy rising at a civilised hour and have an extra two to four hours for themselves. People who barely got to see their children before bedtime, were able to join them for lunch. Jobs which seemed vital to perform in an office environment; meetings scheduled hundreds or even thousand of miles away, suddenly proved to be quite capable of being conducted successfully from home. For many, the realisation that a work/life balance is possible, will, I hope be carried forward into new working practices. Of course, most people will enjoy going to the office and having that social interaction, but it doesn’t need to be everyday. I, for one, will miss my husband terribly when he goes back to work. I’m just hoping that his usual twelve hour days will be reduced and that some of them will be worked at home.

Getting outside

The change that has been most obvious during the various lock-downs has been the number of people getting out to exercise and socialise. Almost all my friends now walk regularly and I suspect this is true for everyone. Where in the past, we might go for a walk in a local beauty spot and meet the odd other person, now we have to find somewhere less crowded. Parking at our favourite haunt at Birling Gap is virtually impossible. And although I sometimes grumble about all the outsiders using ‘our’ favourite spaces, I am actually delighted that families are making the effort to introduce their children to the wonders of the natural world. And as the restrictions are relaxed, I hope that at least some will continue look to the outdoors for entertainment before their Xboxes or iPads.

The garden in winter Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Despite the fairly atrocious weather recently, I still spend time in the garden every day and I join my husband for at least one of Hermione’s walks. Yesterday evening it was dark with freezing, drizzly rain, yet being outside felt wonderful and returning to a warm home, better still.

Giving the planet a rest

The pandemic has certainly not been good for humanity, but it has been very good for the natural world. Skies that were a fretwork of contrails are now only blotted by cloud. Roads, once congested and hazardous to cross, are now blessedly quiet. And as our spending and consumption decreases, so does the impact we have on the planet. Of course, I’m not suggesting we go back to living in a yurt, but this period has shown that we do not have to destroy our natural home to live well.

Because despite the challenges, difficulties and even grief this pandemic has brought us, it has focused our attention on what really matters. It seems, the best things in life are free. These things: friendship, family, health and Nature all nourish us in ways that material things only gratify briefly. If we can remember this and carry forward what we have learned, 2021 should be a very good year indeed, no matter how long it takes to resolve the current health crisis.

I’d like to end with a beautiful poem my friend sent me. It may be a little optimistic, but one can dream…

And the people stayed home

And read books, and listened, and rested, and exercised, and made art, and played games, and learned new ways of being, and were still. And listened more deeply. Some meditated, some prayed, some danced. Some met their shadows. And the people began to think differently.

And the people healed. And, in the absence of people living in ignorant, dangerous, mindless and heartless ways, the earth began to heal.

And when the danger passed, and the people joined together again, they grieved their losses, and made new choices, and dreamed new images, and created new ways to live and heal the earth fully, as they had been healed.

Kitty O’Meara

What I Did Last Summer

This post was recommended by a friend who thought a retrospective was in order. It also seemed a good twist on the ‘What I did on my summer holidays’ theme that children up and down the land are asked to write in the first week of school.

Summer 2020 has proven to be a strange one for all of us. For me, it has been especially bizarre – living simultaneously in isolation from society and yet with more of my husband’s company than I have enjoyed in thirty odd years of marriage. Before you ask, the latter helped make up for the former and we both agree that these have been surprisingly happy times.

What to do?

With all normal activities barred to us, we were left with the conundrum of what to do with the vast expanse of time now available. My niece wrote the first draft of a novel; my husband started a YouTube business lecture series and the rest of us discovered or rediscovered slow pleasures: making bread, reading novels, enjoying a leisurely telephone conversation. (When we received a £350 phone bill, we realised that I’d been indulging in that luxury a little too much! We now have a much better BT plan.)

A Good Book

In the days BH (Before Hermione), I devoured books. I have no idea how many I read, but here are the five that stood out: The Well-Gardened Mind by Sue Stuart-Smith, Small Great Things by Jodi Picoult, The Mobster’s Lament by Ray Celestin, Weather by Jenny Offill and Black Swan Green by David Mitchell. I like an eclectic mix! And, of course, I am always looking for more. Suggestions in the comments section please!

This summer, I also completed a life-long desire to read the complete works of Shakespeare. I started some time ago, stopped, started again and this time made it to the end. Aspiring authors take heart! Even Shakespeare had to learn his craft; even Shakespeare had off days.

The history plays, when read in order, were a joy and intelligible. At last, all those knotty family trees made sense. There were some duds: ‘Titus Andronicus’,’Timon of Athens’ (zzzz) but some gems too. I’ve read, often several times, all the greats, but it was wonderful to discover some that are seldom taught like ‘Pericles’ and the lesser known sonnets. Perhaps one day, I shall read them again – but selectively!

Another thing ticked off the bucket list! Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Swedish lessons

Another challenge I have set myself is to read Pippy Longstocking in the original. Like my reading of Shakespeare, learning Swedish has been a stop/ start affair – but now I had no excuse. I increased the time I was spending on my Swedish lessons and committed to a daily session of twenty to thirty minutes. This more committed approach is starting to show real progress. I am delighted to inform you that I can now say: The bear sleeps from November to April (Bjornen sover fran november till april); I only buy yellow cars (Jag koper bara gula bilar) and my favourite: There is a princess in a long, green dress behind the door (Det finns en prinsessa med en lang, gron klanning bakom dorren.) I’m not quite sure when I will be able to show off these skills, but then, I’m not sure when I will ever get to Sweden.

Virtual outings

This summer has had a serious impact on the arts, so many wonderful theatres and opera houses have offered up their productions for free on YouTube.

One thing that my husband and I have always wished to enjoy was Glyndebourne Opera. Though this is only down the road from us, the tickets are prohibitively expensive and more than a little difficult to procure. So when they offered a season on YouTube, we decided to take advantage.

They were showing a delightful production of The Marriage of Figaro, so we prepared our picnic, put on our best outfits and enjoyed the show.

All dressed up with nowhere to go! Image: Jeff Costello-McFeat

Food glorious food!

Rather to the detriment of my waistline, this summer has been all about food : growing it, harvesting it, cooking it and preserving it. At the beginning, when my husband was furloughed with nothing to do, we introduced morning coffee – with cake and afternoon tea – with cake. It certainly cheered us up, but I’m rather relieved that he is at least partially back to work.

Being the competitive types we are, we also thought we’d add a little spice to our culinary adventures and started a competition for the best entree of the day. A dear friend was hauled in to guess who made it, but we didn’t ask her to say who won. My husband, who until recently was adept at making frozen pizza and big breakfast, is now very good at a number of exotic dishes. He is currently making flat bread in the kitchen. Having proven his capabilities, there is no way he will be allowed to slide back once the crisis ends, though I may allow him the weekdays off!

From frozen pizza to chocolate cake – lock-down’s surprising gift. Image: Jeff Costello-McFeat

A new challenge

With MS, it is always difficult to find ways to increase fitness and stamina. The disease works against you in the most frustrating ways. So I was delighted to find a fitness/life-style programme that could help me and perhaps even lesson my symptoms. It is called the Wim Hof method and involves cold treatments, breathing exercises and yoga. During the pandemic, they were offering reduced price courses on-line and with any number of weeks stretching ahead of us, we decided to give it a go. For ten weeks, we dutifully followed the programme. I confess that around the six week mark, I felt like giving up. I was hard. I’ll write about it fully next time, but let’s just say it was worth all the effort. The downside is that, course over, we need to carry on with it anyway.

Puppy love

Our leisurely, civilised life came to an abrupt halt with the arrival of Hermione. Picking up the umpteenth poo and waiting in the garden while she has five more minutes play, I sometimes wonder if it was an act of insanity getting a dog. (My husband, no doubt, has these thoughts at 3am when he gets up to let her out.) I’ve been through this all before with my old dog (and I got up that time) but just like childbirth, one forgets! And just like having children, the sea of tiredness, stress and frustration (puppies are like insane toddlers) disappears when they lie down quietly or give an adoring look.

We are gradually regaining a semblance of normal life, creating routines and filling quiet moments with human tasks. We are learning to accommodate each other’s needs and relax a little our desire to be in control of our days (and nights!) She requires immense amounts of time, attention and love, but of all the things we did last summer – this was the best.