March is the Month of Expectation

It was my turn to write on the blackboard, so I posted the first line of Emily’s Dickinson’s poem:

March is the Month of Expectation.
The things we do not know—
The Persons of prognostication
Are coming now—
We try to show becoming firmness—
But pompous Joy
Betrays us, as his first Betrothal
Betrays a Boy.

It’s true, as Emily says, that there are the things we do not know.  But we can still expect that this month, and this summer, promises to be better than last year, for many reasons.

First and foremost, it appears that the coronavirus pandemic may soon be under control.  Our new President announced this week that he expected all American adults could be vaccinated by the end of May.  When we first arrived here in mid-November, I posted this in my blog:

The latest graph is much more optimistic, showing a dramatic decline.

The roll-out of the vaccine continues to be very impressive.  More than 82 million doses have been administered, reaching 16.3% of the total U.S. population.  We are now administering over 2 million shots a day.  Martha and I will be getting our second shot exactly a week from now, and along with many of our friends will be thankful to receive it.  Among the many conspiracy theories circulating on the internet is the notion that the vaccine is injecting a microchip in our bodies, courtesy of Bill Gates.  But I subscribe to Science, not to microchips and space lasers and lizard people.  And even if that were the case, I am guessing the chip would crash or need to be updated before long.

More good news:  the Covid Relief Bill which has been passed by the House and will soon by passed by the Senate has a wide range of features that will help those who are suffering – and suffering so much more than we are – including stimulus checks, aid for small businesses, extension of unemployment benefits, and more funding for vaccines.

Just this morning I learned of more good news.  Face masks, hand cleaning, and social distancing intended to combat Covid has also helped dramatically reduce influenza this winter. 

A single pediatric death!  That is nothing short of miraculous.

We will be returning to Highlands in only two or three weeks, and have enjoyed our Sabbatical in Atlantic Beach, where we have avoided the worst of the winter weather and been able to run, hike, and be out of doors most days.  As in past years, we hope to carry forward into the coming year the good habits we cultivated here – reading more, writing, eating healthy, and finding balance in our lives.  I cannot say often enough:  It is so generous of Martha’s Aunt Lizette to let us stay here!  From newspaper reports, it appears that some of our favorite events will resume in Highlands when we return, including the re-scheduled Twilight 5-K in May, the Highlands Motoring Festival, weekly Farmer’s Market, Craft Show, and summer concert series.  Face masks and social distancing will still be in effect, no doubt, but it will be a step toward some kind of “normalcy” once again.

It is March now and we are experiencing that typical see-saw weather that we also see in Highlands, one day dawning warm and sunny, and then winter returning the next day.  Yesterday was one of the former, and I was able to complete a six-mile run to Fort Macon, the first time I have done that in a couple of weeks, and dressed in my lightest running clothes.  By this morning the temperature had fallen and the north wind had risen.  For some reason, I awoke at 5:30, and found myself out on the dune-top deck with a cup of coffee an hour later to watch another  beautiful sunrise.

It was warm enough on our balcony this afternoon, in full sunlight and sheltered from the north wind, to eat lunch.  I had gone out earlier and found that our mockingbird, which returned a few weeks ago, was in full song, going through his entire repertoire again and again.  He kept moving from rooftop to rooftop, as if he were testing the acoustics in a concert hall.  For readers of this blog who can play a video I recorded this.

What a musician!  He is the very embodiment of Emily Dickinson’s “pompous joy!”