254 Guest Blog: My Pandemic Truth

My Pandemic Truth
Guest blog by Teri Merrill

“I haven't seen you in so long. How have you been?" an acquaintance recently asked me at a local grocery store. Her friendly greeting left me speechless. Do I lament on how difficult the pandemic lockdown has been for so many?

Or do I tell the truth? My truth. That stepping back into the world after more than a year didn't feel much different than stepping out of it.

There are those who pined for social engagement during the health crisis of 2020, dreaming of trips not taken and eager to hop on the next plane to anywhere. Well...I'm not one of those people. I much prefer the action-packed lifestyle of a homebody, replete with the risky business of nurturing family, friends, and flora.

During the pandemic, I became like my garden: quietly waiting for the day that I could blossom again, but not at all unhappy where I was rooted. As I watched the hyacinth blooms in late winter give way to the iris and peonies from my VIP garden seating, I marveled at Mother Nature's project-management skills. She washed away the drab and cold of Jack Frost and held fistfuls of buds and sprigs, all the while meticulously tending to her world garden.

Dame Nature puts on quite a show in April and May in the Northern Shenandoah Valley, but those radiant spring bulbs fade as the sun climbs higher in the sky, the days growing longer and hotter. In all my years as a gardener, I have never heard an iris complain when her flowers wrinkle, nor have I noticed a single tear from the peonies as they droop and wither.

Nature understands that we must bloom where we are planted, and when our season is done, it’s time to make our grand exit.

This year, we were treated to Brood X, the 17-year cicada. The first hundred thousand of these small, flying insects to emerge were a wonder to behold, as they dug out from their underground habitat, shed their exoskeletons, carefully climbed nearby trees and began their short, but evidently, sexually vibrant lifespan.

But like the smell of strong perfume in an elevator, cicadas wear out their welcome quickly. Their distinctive sound became annoying and their aviation skills--or lack thereof--even more so, as they smashed into just about anything, or anyone, who moved into their flight path. Even the Secret Service couldn't keep President Biden safe from their errant wings.

The cicadas became the topic of the town, and one couldn’t go anywhere without sharing a story about those who had eaten them (people, dogs, cats!), those who were scared of them, and those who simply sat back and watched the show, knowing they would be far older and hopefully wiser the next time these marvelous insects emerged from their underground havens. As it stands, their time on this earth was only about six short weeks, and they, like the peonies and iris, knew when it was time to leave the stage.

Now the daylilies and hydrangea are wowing the audience, followed by canna lilies, Russian sage, and other garden delights. Each of them stands tall and proud, all of them elegant and regal testaments to the perfect timing, precision, and attention that Mother Nature pays to her creation.

So to answer to the "How-have-I-been" question: "Thankful to be safe and healthy and still gardening."

Teri