The other night Carol and I were watching a movie. Like most people, we’ve been watching lots of movies lately. This was a sweet independent film about a struggling improvisational comedy troupe set in New York City, the type of film we’d normally pay to see at our locally run theater if it weren’t currently shuttered. Anyway, there was a scene early on in the film set in a crowded pub. The actors and their friends were there to unwind after a show. They were all drinking, sharing food, laughing, hugging, you know, living. My initial reaction was, “Look at how close they’re sitting to one another don’t they know that’s not safe?” Shelter in place and social distancing are barely a month old and already a scene like this looks foreign to me.

Five weeks ago most Americans were going about their lives as usual. COVID-19 was here but no one seemed to be taking the threat seriously yet. Then a basketball player tested positive and the NBA suspended its season. Things changed overnight, literally. Shelter in place, social distancing, people walking around wearing face masks. It seems like we’re all living some surreal nightmare. I keep expecting Rod Serling to step into our living room at any moment to warn us about “the signpost up ahead.” What made the Twilight Zone so scary and so real was the way in which Serling showed the terror ordinary people  like you and me would experience when faced with an unexplainable phenomena. We could relate to his protagonists, they could be us. Well right now that ARE us.

When this nightmare is over, and it will end, future generations will judge us by how we acted during this crisis. We can chose. Are we going to be toilet paper hoarders? Someone who stockpiles hand sanitizer and price gouges it on eBay? Or are we going to keep a level head, take care of ourselves and our loved ones but also do what’s best for the health and well being of the communities in which we live? Calm, kindness, caring and humor are some of the virtues that will help us all see this through

There’s a darkness hanging over the world right now, there’s no doubt about that, but rays of sunlight keep stubbornly breaking through. If you wade through the doom and gloom of the daily news, you’ll find countless acts of love and kindness happening everywhere. On my daily walks and bike rides I’m seeing more people outside in my neighborhood than ever before. Families playing with their kids, dog walkers, joggers, bikers. Smiles, nods and friendly greetings abound. I passed a woman the other day while biking the Joe Rodota Trail in Sebastopol. As I rode by she flashed me a radiant smile and used both of her hands to trace a huge heart in the air. We may be six feet apart right now, but we are united as human beings.

A songwriter friend of mine recently played me a new song of his where he poses the question: “What kind of lemonade are we going to make from these lemons?“ As you all know, there are a hell of a lot of lemons out there right now. My heart goes out to the thousands of people who are dealing with the death of a loved one or the loss of a job or business. How do you even begin to deal with those types of personal tragedies? Maybe, just maybe, COVID-19 will help us all realize that we’re not just a bunch of countries separated by artificial borders but a global family. We’re in this together and together is how we’ll find our way out. Perhaps this is the dawning of a new era of global cooperation where we can not only defeat this virus but also find ways to once and for all tackle seemingly intractable problems like climate change, poverty, and racial inequality. Positive? Idealistic? Well, I’m an elementary school teacher a father of twin teenagers who are just beginning to come into their own. I have no choice but to have hope for the future.

Perhaps we should start right here in our own neighborhoods. If we do, I think we’ll discover that the person with the American flag flying from their front porch and the person flying the rainbow flag have more in common than they both realize. If you’ve never taken the time to get to know your neighbors, I’ll bet you’ve done so by now

People all over the world want the same things; a safe and healthy place to raise their families, meaningful work, economic stability, clean water to drink, clean air to breathe, food on the table. If this virus has shown us anything it’s shown us that we’ve only got one planet and we damn well better figure out how to share it. Deeper and more meaningful cooperation globally and locally, perhaps that’s the lemonade we can make from all of these lemons. Well, we’ve got a tree full of lemons in our backyard and plenty of sugar in the cupboard. I’m getting started right now!

You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.

John Lennon

It’s a subtle announcement. I mean if you’re not listening for it you’d think it was just another random chirp from one of the many birds that call our part of the world home. But this one is different. This little chirp tells me in no uncertain terms that winter is over, kaput, has bitten the dust. Spring, in all her glory, has definitely arrived.

Like a delicious orange popsicle on the most glorious sun splashed summer day, the Hooded Oriole announces its presence with a flash of brilliance across the morning sky. This is a strikingly beautiful bird. It is fairly small, 8” long with a 10” wingspan. Its electric orange body feathers are framed by black wings with white bars and a jet black mask from its eyes to its chest. When the sun hits this little bird, it practically vibrates.

The Hooded Oriole makes its appearance in our neighborhood every year within a few days of the spring equinox. There’s a tall fan palm tree in our neighbor’s yard and that’s where the oriole makes its home until the end of summer. All throughout spring and summer, I watch it make its rounds from the fan palm to the tall eucalyptus trees in the lot behind our back fence to the plum and apple trees in our backyard. On most mornings I can see my little friend perched atop one of these tall trees welcoming the first rays of sun with its lilting and lyrical song. 

What makes the oriole’s presence around our home so special is that it’s a migratory species, wintering on the Baja and the Yucatan peninsulas in Mexico and coming north to breed. One of the reasons I so appreciate this bird is because of its fleeting nature. I love  every time its electric orange body flashes in and out of the green foliage. Come the end of summer it’ll be gone until next spring. Seeing the Hooded Oriole every year is a rite of spring that I look forward to; it is grounding, comforting and a touchstone of normalcy and beauty in these strange and uncertain times.

Another seasonal visitor to our yard and one that arrives with even less fanfare than the Hooded Oriole is the diminutive and feisty Rufous Hummingbird. At about the same time as the oriole, this 3” long dynamo can be seen zipping between the two feeders on our deck and the tops of our fruit trees. Its rusty reddish-brown feathers and white neck stripe easily distinguishes it from our years round resident the Anna’s Hummingbird. The Rufous’ time around here is even more fleeting than the oriole’s. While the oriole stays through summer, this little hummingbird is only passing through our area on the way to its breeding grounds in The Pacific Northwest, Canada and Alaska. Its migration route of 3,900 miles is one of longest in the avian world. I’m lucky if I get to see it for a week. I go out on our deck with my Nikon and telephoto lens every day hoping to somehow capture and preserve some of it’s beauty and intrigue on film. Then one day it’s simply gone; the Rufous Hummingbird has vanished as quickly as it arrived. I feel so lucky, so incredibly blessed that this tiny bird chooses our backyard every spring as one of the way stations on its trip north.

How is it that these two species of birds manage to find their way to our backyard every year? Lifespans of up to six years have been recorded for both species but more than likely they’re not the same individuals that make the trip every year which makes their arrival even more inscrutable. In a world where no stone has been left unturned and nearly every inch of our planet has been trod upon, exploited and inhabited it’s nice to know that there are still some uncharted waters, some mysteries still left to be solved. How the Hooded Oriole and Rufous Hummingbird manage to travel such great distances and arrive at the same place at basically the same time every year is a miracle and a mystery that I hope is never solved.