Covid and the Equinox

Astronomical winter is officially over. I have not been back to the mountains for several weeks. I rarely hike in the mud season, so I have to keep active in other ways to keep my endurance levels up and my cardio load steady.

With the passing of March 20, we reach the vernal equinox, and astronomical spring. At this point, both the northern and southern hemispheres get almost equal amounts of light during their days.

Temperatures fluctuate in March with cold days that sport a few snowflakes, or cold rains, and blustery days often outnumbering the sunny temperate ones. I am reminded of the adage I learned as a youth the March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.

Admittedly temperatures are warmer, but the dampness here in New England can make days feel cold and miserable. I am reminded however, that things get better with time.

Out walking this week, I think back to March 2020.

Just before St. Patrick’s Day, I watched vehicles at a transportation company roll into their parking lot. The state had planned for a “pause” in hopes of stemming the tide of infections of the virus circulating the country. The drivers were to report back to work in a week, but that never happened. A few colleagues and myself remained at our jobs as part of a skeleton crew, but soon we too were furloughed.

It was a strange time. My wife and I would go out for a walk with the understanding that we could not have contact with others.

We avoided the local walking paths. Instead we walked the quiet streets of town, and even the cemeteries, which ironically provided a quiet, peaceful, people-free alternative.

I was reminded of that spring’s morning and afternoons where we had the opportunity to walk together. It was a rare pleasure in our busy lives then, a gift only realized because of a global disaster.

During this time our local club’s group hikes were suspended as well.

I would walk many miles hiking solo that spring, mostly on unmarked trails were few novices would dare to tread in fear of becoming lost.

In July the world would begin to open up, with masks and distancing . We would return to the mountains with another couple-our close friends, with the appropriate precautions.

The walks would continue in the early morning hours or late in the day before sunset.

Now the world has returned to “normal.” Can such a term can be used post Covid? To me it seems one hundred years ago. Though time is moved on, I have never lost my taste for solo hiking.

Sadly, with the return of our normal schedules, the daily walks are fewer and far between. Obligations and busy schedules crowd out the ample time given us during the pandemic.

Soon the summer months will arrive and the days will be longer. Perhaps we can carve out time then, because history has shown us that the time we take for granted and what we expect to be predictable in our daily lives is far from certain.

Besides, I could use a good walk.