Time for John Denver

 

Ahh! Freedom! 

And, I'm one of those "sheep" who wears a double mask whenever I am in public areas with other people.

Yup, an unapologetic sheep who wears a mask who feels free.

Perspectives differ, and these days, the word "freedom" seems to have gained some added connotations.

I don't feel the least bit like a prisoner when I'm wearing a mask to protect myself from others and others from me. 

I quit wearing masks in public for a few months last year.  That was at a time when we were pretty sure that our vaccinations would keep us safe from Covid and that others could not get Covid from vaccinated peeps. 

Well, the Covid story continues to unfold, with new twists and turns, and, as it does, I feel very comfortable going back to wearing masks even when I'm the only one doing so wherever I happen to be. 

My attitude is that I've not suffered a bit because of wearing those masks, and because I've remained healthy, I've been able to do some fun stuff over the past two years that has made me feel pretty free of the burden of illness. 

So far so good. 

Like everyone, though, I'm quite aware with this Pandemic that there are exceptions to the rule.  Maybe the one absolute connected with this period of our lives is that nobody really knows all the answers.  

Even the expects throw that reminder in when they are theorizing the best courses of action or what might happen next.  Seems like some folks just don't listen to their disclaimers. 

Anywho, I want to talk about another aspect of freedom that those of us who've slogged through the ravages of winter over the past weeks are feeling. 

A little sunshine can make a big difference in one's outlook, especially when that sunshine opens up possibilities that may have been put on hold during all that snow and rain and shoveling and slipping and sliding and hurting and so on. 

Sunshine melts the snow and sunshine feeds the heart and soul. 

This weekend on a sunny Sunday, I tortured my lower back just a bit more and shoveled out our new greenhouse. 

When the task was done, I mentally labeled my shovel work as the "pathway to spring." 

Twas nice to open the door and walk inside and plot what I could do now, in January, to prepare for gardening season. 

My decision:  go to town the next day and get some potting soil.  

No, I wasn't going to plant seeds, just yet, but I could, at least, put the soil in some trays and have them ready for when it's a reasonable time to plant. 

Just the ability to plan that little errand gave me a sense of freedom and exhilaration. 

While I was shoveling that day, so was Bill.  

We now have more freedom because we can go out the sliding door, down the steps and onto a short path leading to the dog-run path, which we shoveled out for two or three days last week. 

Weekend sunshine also gave me the opportunity to do something with my horses besides shoveling their stalls and feeding them. 

I dragged out my mounting block, set it up next to the gate to the barnyard (which had been shoveled out several times, as you may recall).  Then came an extension cord and finally the clippers.  

Throughout the afternoon at different times, I would put a halter on a horse, lead it to the gate and clip away at their bridle paths and their long whiskers.

They all loved the attention, and I loved the satisfaction of how nice they looked after three inches of a horsehair crewcut had been removed behind their ears. 

A good clip job always does wonders for a horse mid winter, especially when the days are somewhat warm.

Just to be able to do something besides shoveling and hurting and then shoveling and hurting some more gave me a sense of feeling alive and hopeful again. 

Bill and I added to that sense yesterday with another drive to Bonners Ferry.  It was gray and somber here, but about the time we passed the Boundary County border, we were seeing blue skies. 

And, once we reached the Three-Mile Antique Mall where I purchased that Guinness sign I'd seen last week, the views of snow capped mountains surrounding Bonners Ferry and the vast Kootenai Valley were stunning. 

We drove for a few minutes through the valley and then headed home, where the sun had appeared and everything seemed so much more beautiful than when we had left. 

Yes, a little sunshine can go a long way in helping us make it through the many funks of January. 

Add to that a gorgeous moonlit night and early morning where we can enjoy the landscape in the blue and coolness of the night. 

Sorta like Heaven. 

And so liberating from the cumbersome feelings of what feels like winter imprisonment. 

Sunshine does make us happy.  So, today, a little John Denver and some scenes made possible thanks to the welcome hours of sun. 

Stay safe.  Stay healthy.  

Covid is on the rampage and a good mask could help as well as keep you warm.  

Happy Tuesday. 

Our neighbor, Ginny who lives on North Kootenai Road, was enjoying some sunny freedom with her dog when I came home from town a few days ago. 

Denver described how he wrote "Sunshine on my Shoulders": "I wrote the song in Minnesota at the time I call 'late winter, early spring.'  

It was a dreary day, gray and slushy.

The snow was melting and it was too cold to go outside and have fun, but God, you're ready for spring.

You want to get outdoors again and you're waiting for that sun to shine, and you remember how sometimes just the sun itself can make you feel good.

And in that very melancholy frame of mind I wrote 'Sunshine on my Shoulders'."