Spring starts...

Note:  For those looking for Esme Kenney's eulogy, it can be found below, or in the archives dated March 11th.  

Today I went out and did a touch of birding for the first time since my sister's death on March 7th.  In truth, I largely forced myself to do it; I am still in a difficult place where it is hard to take pleasure in much of anything, and hard to look forward to the future.  But I think it is important that at some point I take an active stand for myself and my spirits; there is some selfishness in this but I think Esme would want to see a smile on my face again.

The last couple of days, Sunday and Monday, were exceptionally tough.  I do not fully understand why.  It feels like part of me is coming out of shock, and I am losing shelter to find myself in the middle of something very heavy with no end in sight.  As horrifying as the first couple of weeks were, I had some intellectual understanding that I would come out of it eventually, but this weekend I had glimpses of the possibility that I wouldn't.  Which is scary.  And the understanding that maybe I would need outside help, even beyond the very close and supportive family I have.  I have never really felt that way before.  

Also, it rained both Sunday and Monday, and I had been used to reclaiming some basic connection with reality and a modest infusion of well-being from taking in some sun on a daily basis.  Last night I had a spot of music (Beethoven) with my string quartet which pulled me back somewhat so that I went to sleep in a better place.  And this morning, seeing the sun shining, I made the effort to get out in it first thing, with a walk at Hammond Pond, my favorite park in Newton, and a place I may see very little of in the future, as I move to Ipswich this weekend.  

Hammond Pond really doesn't come into its own until mid and high Spring, with copious carpets of ground cover, decidedly varied woodlands and wonderful patches of skunk cabbage in the marshy spots.  But there were a few birds frisking about, nothing noteworthy but it was good to hear their song, see their escalating activity and a few signs of nest-building from robins and goldfinches.  Common mergansers prowled the pond, a large community of mallards waded and swam through the marsh, downy woodpeckers rapped and golden-crowned kinglets hovered, all to the ever-present symphony of the red-winged blackbirds.

I feel better today, though still a long way from chipper.  Love to all.