Last night, Allison told us she's been studying what the experts are saying about choral singing. They say that it may be three years before it's safe to sing in groups again. Three years. It's only been three months now, and I'm lost without it. I can't wrap my head around this news. I emailed my friend, Jeannette about it, and she said it's better than death. I morbidly replied, 'Is it?' She wrote back that yes, not being able to sing for three years would be better than not being able to breathe, dying alone with a breathing tube down your throat and wondering who would care for Halle Macaw. I admitted she was right. But I didn't like to.
Then I went out on my deck to water the pot where I've planted some seeds, and I saw a couple of them poking their little heads up out of the dirt. Sigh.
The above painting is of some lilacs at 17 Shore Road in North Truro. Oil on board, In the collection of someone I can't remember. My mother's lilacs are blooming in New Hampshire, and chipmunks are climbing among the flowers.
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