When big-box home improvement stores arrived in this city 15 years ago, they killed off the local hardware stores where I used to buy nails and get windows reglazed. Now when I need something for the house, I have to go to the edge of town, to a big store surrounded by acres of parking. Today I needed a cap for our sump drain clean-out—the O-ring on the old one has failed—and I made it into a short walking pilgrimage.
It was a cold day, with the sun playing hide and seek in the clouds. Occasional pellets of snow blew past on the wind. There is still ice on the north sides of buildings and fences and on the edges of the creek. Spring is taking its time getting here. I walked to our allotment garden first. The plants are, quite sensibly, hiding underground: no rhubarb or asparagus or daffodils or echinacea are visible. Then I continued walking south.
I was thinking about walking in the Basque country in Spain seven years ago. There’s no sheep here, no vineyards, no hills. But there was woodsmoke today. People must’ve been enjoying their fireplaces on this chilly Easter weekend. That smell is the one detail that connects this place with that one—that and the blue sky and the clouds.
I found what I was looking for—it cost all of $2.25, with tax—and then turned east. I stopped at a south Asian grocery and bought a bag of spicy fried peanuts and ate them as I plodded along the sidewalk. One of those little free libraries boasted a copy of Dickens’s Nicholas Nickleby. If I’d had a bag with me, I would’ve taken it.
I turned up the street where my friend Philip lives. There he was, raking last fall’s leaves; the early winter snow caught him off-guard, he told me, before he’d had a chance to start raking. I haven’t seen him for a month, not since we were told to stay home because of the pandemic. We talked about our anxiety, and how our lives might change after all of this is over. It was getting colder, and I could feel my muscles, unused to exercise after a sedentary winter, cramping up. We said our goodbyes and I hobbled towards home.
Home was still an hour’s walk away. A few people were out enjoying the fresh air. Everyone was friendly but guarded. Social distancing—that’s the term epidemiologists use, apparently, rather than “physical distancing,” which some people prefer—is having unintended effects. And then I was home, carrying my souvenirs: a plastic cap and half a bag of spicy peanuts. It’s nice to be warm, sheltered from the wind. Maybe we need to think about what we have, rather than what the pandemic is taking away from us. And maybe I’ll make another walk tomorrow.
Always good to seeing you walking! Sorry spring is so slow in your neck of the woods. We enjoyed a beautiful early morning walk here down to the ocean and along the shoreline road. Beat most of the folks but during the four hours we walked we noticed the layering of the walkers. First there’s the mature folks walking their dogs, most are, except some one who allowed their dog off leash to bother the dogs on leash. She threatened to put the dog on the leash, but I’m sure the dog didn’t get it. Then there are the folks who have slept in and start slow out for a run followed by families out to look around and the less likely to walk folks who are seemingly venturing out in order to get out of their homes for a while during the pandemic. Look forward to talking Monday night!
Geoff