Mourning doves have been visiting me off and on since my mother died twenty-eight years ago. They seem to arrive when I could use a little encouragement. When I used to garden one would often sit near me and watch me as I worked. Once one walked with me all the way from my garden to the swimming pool in our complex. Lately one comes to sit on the balcony almost daily and coos for as long as an hour at a time. I find her company very comforting.
Sunday morning I decided to try to photograph her through the sliding glass doors and was thrilled with the results. She didn’t seem to mind posing. I know they are plain birds, but that’s exactly why I find them so beautiful! I love them the same way I love my gulls.
In this sad world of ours, sorrow comes to all; and, to the young, it comes with bitterest agony, because it takes them unawares. The older have learned to ever expect it.
~ Abraham Lincoln
(Letter to Fanny McCullough, December 23, 1862)
When I first read the Lincoln quote six years ago, after my father died, I remember thinking how true it was. When my mother died I was so young it came as a terrible blow and I needed therapy to work through the grief. By the time my father died it was no longer such a shocking experience. I deeply felt the pain of loss, but it wasn’t unexpected.
We now have 36 confirmed cases of COVID-19 in our town. There are moments I feel terribly anxious about this. It’s starting to sink in that it may be be many months or even more than a year before it will be safe to visit our grandchildren again. As it stands now, I don’t think I will feel free from danger before there is a vaccine. But we are trying to make the best of it and even find a sense of humor at times.
I find myself wondering how my parents would respond to the coronavirus pandemic. I imagine they would probably be just as blindsided as the rest of humanity. But since Mother Nature sees fit to send me such a sweet comforter as this lovely mourning dove I will stay grateful.
It’s not true that life is one damn thing after another — it’s one damn thing over and over.
~ Edna St. Vincent Millay
(Letter to Arthur Davison Ficke, October 24, 1930)
The Millay quote has been one of my favorites for a long time. It amuses me and helps me to laugh at the ironic situations I think I find myself in. The coronavirus pandemic feels unprecedented, and perhaps it is in my lifetime, but not at all in the history of the world.
In the trilogy Kristin Lavransdatter by Sigrid Undset, the protagonist, Kristin, dies from the Black Death at the end. It’s one thing to read about plague statistics in history books, quite another to experience what it must have been like while reading the words of an excellent storyteller. It comforts me to know others have felt the same fear.
Being a highly sensitive child, whenever I would lament about the sad things happening in the world my father would sigh and advise me, “‘Twas ever thus.” When my mother was dying of cancer and my heart ached for her suffering he would gently remind me that “every creature struggles for life.” He was a naturalist and scientist who taught us compassion for animals and people, but also prepared us for loss. Whenever one of our pets died he would tell us to “remember the good times.” I am so grateful for the lessons he taught me.
‘Twas ever thus — from childhood’s hour I’ve seen my fondest hopes decay, I never loved a tree or flower but ’twas the first to fade away.
~ Charles Dickens
(The Old Curiosity Shop)
I absolutely love your dove and your photos of her! She’s beautiful. We don’t have mourning doves here, but we have collared doves which have a similarly gentle expression.
You had a good dad, helping you cope. Mine, despite also being scientific-minded (he was a doctor) wasn’t very helpful at all in that respect and I learnt most of my lessons about how to cope from personal experience. I am self-taught in almost everything I know.
I find myself comparing covid-19 to the plague, as well. However, from looking at the graphs in countries where it hit first and hardest, I don’t think it’s actually as bad as that, though of course that could change with a second or third wave if people don’t follow the very sensible rules well enough…. and we both know there are some complete idiots out there who are ignoring them. It would be good to know if having had it actually gives immunity and if it’s still onboard and spreadable or if it has died – then at least those who have recovered won’t be spread it and won’t catch it again, but so much is still unknown about this virus.
What I find mind-boggling (astonishing) is how quickly it happened. I have a diary in which I write my thoughts and in one entry I’m talking about something fairly superficial and in the next, I’m talking about a ‘disaster in my lifetime’.. It’s all so, so damn sad and anxiety-provoking.
Be as well as you can, Barbara. Hugs. x
Thank you, Val! ♡ I looked up collared doves and I see what you mean. Apparently they’ve been introduced to North America and are spreading rapidly, although they haven’t made it to Connecticut yet. But I will keep an eye out for them.
I listened to a podcast this morning about the 1918-1919 flu epidemic, which killed about 8,500 people in Connecticut. They seemed to have had very similar advice for slowing the spread for the public, except for one thing I noticed. They didn’t promote hand-washing. So far with COVID-19 we’ve had 1,764 deaths in Connecticut. Only time will tell how bad it will get.
It is frustrating that there are so many questions yet to be answered about this virus. For now we are erring on the side of caution and sometimes feel “lucky” because we have an income and no need to be out and about in public. So far our governor is doing a good job managing the crisis but our president scares me to death with his astounding ignorance and narcissism.
It did all happen rather suddenly, didn’t it? Last year climate change was my biggest worry. Then my health. Now this nightmare. Thankfully there is enough of the natural world left to give us some comfort and technology available to connect us with friends and family across the distances. Thank you for being my friend, Val. Stay safe and be well. *hugs*
Your dove is so very beautiful. She’s not plain at all. I love the mourning doves, but rarely get such a good look at them. Ours are very shy. I’m glad she’s there to comfort you.
We’ve been talking about being able to see our grandchildren, too, and wondering how long it will be before we can see them, hug them, and just be with them. It’s so hard, isn’t it? We had planned to go out to Ohio for a visit over spring break (the 2nd week of March, I think), but cancelled because they were all sick with a cough and fever, before anyone knew how far the virus had spread or where it had spread to. There is no way of knowing if it was the flu or covid-19. At any rate, our son told us not to come or we’d probably end up sick. We cancelled and now, sometimes, I regret it. Had we gone, we would have been stuck there. But we would have been with family. Ah well. Here we are and here we will stay for a while.
The official count in our county is 14. I suspect it’s higher. This is a very poor county. Many people don’t have health insurance, making them unlikely to seek medical help (and thereby be counted). It’s also a very right-wing county in which people believe their rights are being infringed upon so they are not physically distancing or wearing masks as required. To each his own, I suppose, but it’s going to stretch this out longer. I wish people would realize that much. Our governor has done a good job, and he got on it early, shutting things down fast. His wife, who is South Korean, managed to get us some testing kits that we needed. If we’d had to depend on the president… well… things would likely be much worse (and still could be).
Thank you, Robin! ♡
It is hard wondering what the future will bring where our grandchildren are concerned. The video chatting is wonderful and I am grateful for it, but it’s not quite the same as a physical hug and snuggle! We had planned a trip to North Carolina this month… Sigh… Katherine and Finn were pretty sick with parainfluenza in February and it led to croup with Finn. Larisa had to take him to the emergency department but after they treated him they let her take him home. It was a scary couple of days. I can understand why you might regret not having gone to visit your family in March. So suddenly our lives have been thrown into confusion.
It has been said that for every confirmed case of COVID-19, there could be up to 10 undetected cases in the community. Sobering thought. We’ve been having our groceries delivered because we are in the high-risk category so I haven’t been out and about to see how well people are complying with physical distancing and wearing face masks. We’re starting to get testing places in cities where people don’t own cars and can’t use a drive-through testing place. Thanks to mayors and the governor. With our president at the wheel I feel like a passenger in a car with a drunk, irrational driver.
Stay safe, Robin, and be well. *hugs*
That is such a good way to put it, Barbara. “Drunk, irrational driver” sums up his leadership (or lack thereof) quite well. We should probably not be out and about, but there is no choice here. There are no delivery services in our area. We don’t even have curbside pickup or “senior hours” at the grocery store. I really don’t like going out given the way people down here are not complying with physical distancing or wearing masks. M and I go together because we can split up and get it done faster that way, hopefully limiting our exposure.
I miss the physical interaction with the kids, too. Hugs and snuggles and having them both try to sit on my lap when I read a book and a million other ways we interact. Zoom and Marco Polo (another video chat type thing) are better than nothing at all, but I miss the contact.
Hugs to you too, Barbara. Be safe and be well.
That’s a tough situation you are in there, Robin, similar to how things are where my sister-in-law lives. We had a two hour video chat yesterday and neither of us can figure out why some people simply won’t comply with social distancing or wearing masks. Or wearing masks that only cover their mouths but not their noses…. If only we had grown-ups in charge… I wish you success in limiting your exposure. Looking forward to the day when all this is behind us and our grandchildren are safely in our arms again. ♡
Such a beautiful post, Barbara. I also love the doves that sit and coo around our yard and on our deck (and in our garden, even though it only has some hearty perennials trying to rise from the cold earth). Yes, doves are comforting, and this one you photograph seems like a sign from a Spirit, or Spirits. I like to think so. Your dad was a wise wonderful man. Thanks for his sayings, and the quotes you leave us with. They help. xo
Thank you, Pam! ♡ I also think mourning dove visits are a spiritual gift and their presence is always uplifting to me. My grandparents loved them, too, welcoming them into their garden. When visiting we would often have breakfast on the back porch, listening to them coo and watching them feed on the ground while the other birds were at the feeders. So glad my dad’s quotes helped you, too.
Stay safe, Pam, and be well. *hugs*
I am watching the doves closely every morning now as my mom is tested for Covid. We need all the coos we can get.
Oh Pam, I’m so sorry to hear your mom is going through this. Both of you are in my thoughts and prayers and may the doves and your family continue to strengthen and comfort you… *hugs*
Thanks so much. I’m feeling the hug. xo
♡
Dear Barbara – how did I miss this post?! As I was reading it I thought it was before we followed one another, but I am sure I followed you pre-COVID. I apologize for missing this post at any rate. It is a beautiful post, not only for the lovely Dove which photos are exquisite, but your mention of losing your mother and your father’s words to you in times of sorrow. Very beautiful and so heartfelt. I also like that Millay quote – that made me smile.
You didn’t miss this April 2020 post! The first time you commented on my blog was in September 2020, five months later. So we started following each other about six months into the pandemic. I’m glad you got a chance to see it now and thank you so much for your very kind words. I’m doing my best to apply my father’s words to my feelings of loss when I miss my sister, the ocean and New England. Millay’s words still make me smile. 🙂
Well I feel better then Barbara. I know we often commented on the early days of the pandemic, so I assumed we were already following one another before. I am glad I got to see it now too. Well, your father gave you keen insight into handling grief. Everyone handles grief differently – you were young to lose your mom. You made a big transition moving to North Carolina, coming from a place you lived your entire life. My mother was 40 when we moved to the States in 1966. She was lonely for her mother, friends and familiar places she left behind in Canada where she always lived. I felt the same way, but was only ten years old, so on a different level. Yes, that did Millay quote make me smile as well.
I can imagine how lonely your mother was feeling. It must have been a huge adjustment, trying to find new friends and places to feel attached to. Besides the ocean and my sister I miss odd things like glacial erratics and Christmas shops and maple sugar houses. Was your mother on board with the move or did your father make the decision to move against her wishes? I often think of my grandmother coming from Ukraine at age 22, and how much she might have missed her homeland. I don’t think she ever saw her parents again. It helps me knowing others have been through this kind of loss before.
I remember the maple sugar house where you went on a tour in the Spring and I also remember you doing a post around Thanksgiving time where you wandered around town and did some window shopping – was it a Nordic shop of some type? I remember something like elves or mythical creatures in your post. There is a Facebook page about memories of Oakville (where we lived) and I look at the pictures and think “I would not have left there – why?” Coronation Park is absolutely gorgeous, right on the water and a harbor area. This was not far from where we lived. My mother was not on board with the move. They argued about it and he said “we’ll stay ten years and move back.” That made no sense and she told him that. He came over for the interview, hired a realtor, got a house and she never saw it until the day we moved in. She never liked the house either. Eventually they did a lot of renovations to it but she had no input or decision in the move. It is sad for people to leave their homeland, never to return. That is part of the reason my mom’s cremains were scattered in Canada. She wanted to return to her homeland.
This is probably the post you are thinking of:
https://www.ingebrita.net/2020/11/holiday-lights/
We took a walk around Olde Mistick Village after having Thanksgiving for just the two of us. To think that was only four years ago, it feels like a lifetime ago.
I still visit the Eastern Point Beach Facebook page and reminisce about all the years I practically lived on that beach. I feel for you and your poor mother. I had a feeling from other things you’ve told me about your father that she probably had no say in this major life-altering decision. And then for him to abandon the family after uprooting you! It makes me so angry!
Yes, that is the post Barbara. I remember the little village and the Nordic store (you said it was your favorite – Bestemors). I could picture the figures in the window; I did not remember the troll. Now Mystic Village rings a bell with me because you and Tim went to an antique car show there as I recall. It was an annual show and afterward I remember I shared my post about the Model A anniversary celebration that I attended with the Model A cars and trucks for you and Tim to read. That would be nice to see the town lit up like that. We have tree lighting ceremonies, but that is one night and then it’s done for the holiday. At the Botanical Gardens a few nights ago, they lit the giant Christmas tree in the middle of the Conservatory area, plus built a bonfire, had hot chocolate, s’mores and sang Christmas carols. I would have loved to do that, but I don’t like going out at night alone, so had to pass. Yes, my father was adamant to move here and applied for a transfer with Ford Motor Company as they had built a new factory over here and they needed tool-and-diemakers, so he applied. To add insult to injury, the quote of German people moving to the U.S. was filled at that time, so we came over as Canadians as that quota was not filled up. My father had dual citizenship, German and Canadian, but we came over on my mother’s status. It makes me angry too Barbara and then to leave and abandon the family and take all the money out of the bank and annuities as well. It’s just wrong.
*hugs* You’ve somehow managed over the years to make the best of a terrible situation, my friend. I know it hasn’t been easy but I’m glad that you take good care of yourself and have made so many healing connections in the natural world, especially with those darling squirrels. 🐿️
Thank you Barbara. I found peace in nature, as do you. Today I didn’t chance walking as it was way too slippery. I hope to get there tomorrow – the weather now will make me fret over those squirrels. I got some things done in the house today since I didn’t walk and I finished my post – today is Friday and the howling dog next door usually goes to work with its owner. My day of peace INSIDE the house. It has been a fitful and fretful year … good thing I am healthy because it would have taken its toll on me otherwise.