As I watered the forsythias, a soft, humming fountain of bees rose up from the flowers. The plants are hardy and ask for little, but they’re working hard now, the first to flower at the end of what passes for winter here. The bees gave me joy. Certain flighted creatures silence my mind into bliss—bees, bats, sandhill cranes circling with their purring, gargling songs. They sound like crows who took voice lessons from doves.
The internet did me a favor and cut off, waiting exactly until the end of a Zoom yoga class I was taking. I missed sharing “Namaste” with my teacher and classmates, but after that, I was free from listening to the news online or reading the news or my email.
When I needed a break from writing in the evening. I took a walk. Jupiter was glowing in the West, huge and pale gold. Straight overhead, Saturn shone. Further east was Mars, a steady red dot. The streetlights are weak and few in my neighborhood, and the night sky glitters. I invited a neighbor out to share the planet-and-star show. Disconnected from the world, we reconnected with the universe and each other.
Amber Foxx Mysteries 