More Sunflowers and Dahlias in Late August, Thinking About the Balance of Re-Entry and the Effects of the Pandemic on Art and Artists, and What’s on the Horizon

Me and Glenn with pale lemon sunflowers

More Sunflowers and Dahlias in Late August

Late August can be really beautiful here, or hot, stagnant and miserable, and this week had days that were over 90 and beautiful days in the 70s. Today was one of those cooler days, so we took advantage and went out a bit in the neighborhood, including a flower stand and the new J.B. Grower’s Lavender and Flower Farm. This visit, there were totally different flowers – pale sunflowers, teddy bear sunflowers, zinnias, and dahlias, as well as violet-streaked sunflowers. The birds and butterflies make so much noise out there that literally think you’ve been transported, even though you’re just down the street from your house. Here are a few pictures from our visit, purple-streaked dahlia, white sunflower closeups, zinnias, and a pair of house finches.

At an unnamed flower stand in Woodinville, dahlias and sunflowers

Thinking More about Balance of Re-Entry

I was talking to my family about the careful balance of re-entering the world after two and a half years of basically living in a bubble. Tomorrow, I’m having over a poet friend and I’m looking forward to making friends at our new Woodinville book club at J. Bookwalters. But I have to be careful – I still haven’t gotten covid, though I have friends who are getting it for the first time and family who are getting it the second and third time. I’ve been talking about re-entering the working world a bit more, with my MS vocational therapist, talking about setting limits and boundaries, balancing my ambition and physical limits. I’m cautiously optimistic, I guess – and hoping to stay healthy enough for AWP in Seattle and my April book launch.

Violet-tinged sunflowers

But how do we know what’s safe, with the confusing and often contradictory guidelines about covid, and is life ever really safe for those of us who are immune compromised? I nearly died from complications of pneumonia from the swine flu and people barely made a big deal of it of swine flu. I think about how the pandemic will affect art for the years to come – and artists who’ve suffered from complications of covid – the way the 1918 flu affected art and artists. Will people want to read, or see art, or hear music about the experiences of loss, isolation, and anxiety that came with this pandemic? Will people want to stamp out the last few years in denial?  Americans don’t like dealing with death, and they certainly don’t like dealing with mass death.

Glenn and I with teddy bear sunflowers

As the summer seems to be drawing to a close, and people are talking about a fall rise in covid cases, new variants, new vaccines and how well they might work, I am looking forward to the natural increase in writing energy I get when it gets a little cooler – the “back to school” feeling that never really goes away. Getting pens and books and writing projects in order, taking a look at revamping the wardrobe (maybe getting rid of some of the slouchier cocooning clothing I have been wearing, and getting rid of things that don’t fit or remind me of things I can’t do any more (like high heeled shoes and boots), to make room for the new. I don’t really know what’s around the corner.

I know there will be struggle, difficulty, and loss – at my age, losing friends and family and dealing with aging issues like dental work and physical therapy, are pretty normal – but I also think this is an age when we should really be reevaluating what has worked for us, what we need to get rid of  – whether physical or attitude or other – and what we are looking forward to in the next decade.

Mt Rainier with sunflower fields, Woodinville

What’s On the Horizon

So, my goals for the next year include reaching out and strengthening old friendships and making new friends, doing my best to launch my next book, getting healthy enough to be able to do AWP without too much hardship, increasing my reading and writing time. As I ease back into doing things in person, I’m hoping I can stay as safe as possible with the help of scientists and a good medical team and good sense, as well as (hopefully) the respect and care of people around me. What are your goals? How have they been reshaped during the pandemic years?

This view of Mt Rainier over sunflowers strikes me as incredibly inspiring, a sign of better things ahead. Just a few months ago, I was not expecting to be making friends at local wineries and farms, but I have, or starting a book club, or thinking about working again. I’ve realized that we have to work our priorities for joy as well as our realistic preparations for hardship into some kind of balance. Maybe this is part of getting older – we can see both joy and sadness on the horizon but try to focus on appreciating the beauty we have today. Being thankful for today – for sunflowers, for a summer day with clean air and relatively cool temperatures, for the people in our life, for the ability to enjoy the art of others and to contribute to the world.