Virtually nothing prepared me for the reality of now – nature herself effectively closed because of a worldwide virus.
‘Brig’/Forsythe — After Hurricane Sandy
No matter what “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” swirled about me in New Jersey, its shores and coasts and sands and paths, –especially wooded ways — would restore the Carolyn Soul. No longer.
Yes, I yearn again to be absolutely surrounded by New Jersey Nature.
Season does not matter. Nor place – The above is Plainsboro Preserve.
As Corona-Captivity lengthens and expands, however, it is the little things I crave:
Possibly the littlest to be relinquished this year are tiny eggs of horseshoe crabs. Our Delaware Bayshore is soon to be peppered with tinctures of life. Not only essential to the future of horseshoe crabs, –so-endangered red knots and ruddy turnstones must ingest sufficient crab egg nutrition not only to make it to the Arctic, but also to breed and lay eggs whose contents ultimately will sprout wings and fly. The full moon of May is Horseshoe-Landing Time. Essential sanctions and strictures will prevent my being witness.
I seem to need Pine Barrens ‘little things’ above all:
NJWILDBEAUTY readers well know how I cherish every cranberry, –whether burgeoning on the vine, being harvested by traditional methods, or somehow surviving –ripe as rubies– alongside Pine Barrens’ fruitful bogs.
(Cranberries, at least, need not observe social distancing.)
I miss every boardwalk.
I miss cut-throughs and being out in wild weather.
Storm at Sea, Cape May
But, most of all, I miss the little things.
Transformation of mood has become the burden of memory.