Is this the planet fighting back? In my mind I have an image of mother earth losing its rag. Like a parent who has reached the end of their patience with their kids playing up, fighting or bickering. When the tone of voice changes from a calm even toned request, to something far more scary. That tone where the kids know they have gone too far now, and the naughty step or facing the wall or banishment to their room is probably going to follow. Mother earth had sent us warning signs, freaky weather, melting glaciers, strange diseases that had hopped from animals to humans, but had happened a bit too far away. We just carried on regardless, kept on polluting and destroying habitats, with our thirst for travel, for more stuff, bigger cars, and more food than we can possibly eat. We didn’t heed the signs; so she got angry and sent us something to make us stop.
In a few short weeks, which have simultaneously felt like forever and a single day, the air is cleaner, Images of Los Angeles and The Himalayas have appeared, both now looking majestic free from the pollution fuelled fog that usually shrouds them. The taste and smell of the air in my local area has changed, cycling and walking around the streets is a joy, with few if any cars to avoid, and those that are around, seem to be driven with more patience and awareness. No one is impatient stuck in a line of traffic these days. I sense the irony of those that suffer with asthma being both more vulnerable to the virus, but having easing symptoms from the lower pollution levels.
Saying thank you seems to be entering into daily life a lot more. Beyond the Thursday night clap, I hear a thank you being said by everyone who leaves as I wait outside the corner shop, one in one out. Queuing is in our nature, but these new two metre gap queues are full of conversation, not like before when everyone would be impatiently tutting, eyes firmly focussed on the front, willing the people ahead of them to hurry up.
I feel closer to nature even though I am denied my excursions out of the city. On my daily walk to the local park, I find myself stopping to admire the spring flowers that are emerging in the front gardens that have not been sacrificed to the god of off street parking. I stop and watch as a colourful array of tulips bob their heads in the slight breeze and spring sunshine, hoping that the door will open and I can say thank you to the person who planted them, and maybe even chat a while, from a safe distance of course.
I notice the stark lines and structure of the tree branches still distinct, but softened with pink and white blossom and a tinge of green as the leaves start to bud; showing me their secrets before the mass of leaves fill in the gaps, hiding them from casual view until next year. Why have I never seen this before? Too busy I suppose, head down, trying to avoid eye contact, now I crave it, just a nod from a neighbour that I’ve never seen before, that nod that says we are all in this together.
A middle aged woman's attempts at a low carbon life 