photo bu Paul Mayer
BY KIMBERLY MAYER
We were propped up in bed watching House Hunters International—one of our ways of traveling vicariously while quarantined. The apartment hunt was in Amsterdam and we were torn between a small flat with canal view, and another with no canal view but a rooftop deck.
It was just after 1 am, May 15, when we felt it and heard it. A 3.0 earthquake eight miles deep on island, less than two miles away as a crow flies. It sounded like a sudden gust of wind, and indeed, our house did lurch a little.
“What was that?” we asked each other. We were suddenly out of Amsterdam and back on San Juan Island, Washington.
We asked each other this question, but knew full well. We didn’t live all those years in California for nothing. And so we continued with our house hunt in Amsterdam, my husband favoring the view, while I couldn’t imagine living without the outdoor space.
In subsequent days I inquired whether other islanders experienced the earthquake. Our social circle is particularly small lately due to the Coronavirus pandemic, but I asked our neighbors (there are only two), my book group, and friends on Mount Dallas.
“We didn’t feel a thing,” is all I heard from anyone. Everyone, it turns out, slept through it. And so everything returned to normal, or rather, The New Normal.
There is much to be said for The New Normal aside from the fact that the moon is brighter and there are far more stars in the sky lately. The friends on Mount Dallas are seeing islands beyond all the islands they ever saw before.
I have felt my hair grow over my shoulders and fall onto the small of my back. We’ve so many houseplants indoors now, they color the light in our home. And I take the time to walk them all out to be watered in the rain.
On clear days we step outdoors and hear nothing but birds, a symphony matinee every day. The keening of gulls carries for miles over salt water, from one bay to the next. A friend on island notes, “Something I never tire of, watching quail walk along the top of my rock wall.”
Businessmen are at home writing poetry. Children, learning to bake bread. More thank you notes than we’ve seen in decades are moving through the mail, followed, in many cases, by thank you’s on the thank you notes.
The deer and fox step closer to us now. On every walk I weed my way up the gravel drive, while my husband mows the long dirt road for all the neighbors not here yet. We keep an eye on the empty houses for them.
We are all watching seeds sprout, plants grow, buds open, and flowers bloom. At a time when we haven’t been able to see the children who have flown off, these are our children now. I am now planting Winter Blooming Honeysuckle for the hummingbirds. At a time when even an earthquake doesn’t rattle us anymore, hummingbirds move us immensely.
37 responses to “The New Normal”
Kim, this is really beautiful. You paint a very charming place with your writing. Be Safe and Take Care, Rhonda
Thank you so much.
This is beautiful, Kim! Thank you. Wish we were on that island with you ❤
Thank you, Isla. We are all fortunate to be in the Pacific Northwest, I think.
Your writing is absolutely fabulous Kim. I really enjoy it.
Great writing Kim! Love it!
Why thank you, again.
Thank you for this. Yes! The birds! I keep getting letters in the mail, delivered by a mail carrier, and wonder how long my wonder will last.
I grew up in California and so know the feeling of registering movement as an “event”– it always causes me to be slightly dizzy for a brief moment.
I think I’ll send you a card. Miss you, my friend.
Your “New Normal” sounds heavenly. I have been noticing nature too seeming more at ease. Not quite as timid or fearful. Less hustle and bustle around. More calm, something we can all appreciate during this unprecedented time. Love your writings, love you.❤️
That’s an interesting thought, that nature is more comfortable with us too as we slow down in this quarantine. Makes perfect sense.
This is a beautifully written post, Kim.
Thank you, dear sister.
Gorgeous as usual!
Love you, Deb. Safe travels home.
Planting honeysuckle for the birds and dropping these offerings for us humans. Lovely.
Thank you, Craig. I still think of you as my coach.
Haven’t read one word yet, but I have to send Paul a “BRAVO” for that fabulous photo!!! Taken from your “back yard”????
Alice ========== Alice B. Acheson, Book Marketing/Publishing Consultant P. O. Box 735 Friday Harbor, WA 98250 360/378-5850 http://sites.google.com/site/alicebacheson a little elbow room wrote on 5/27/2020 10:30 AM: > WordPress.com > a little elbow room posted: ” photo bu Paul Mayer BY KIMBERLY MAYER We > were propped up in bed watching House Hunters International—one of our > ways of traveling vicariously while quarantined. The apartment hunt > was in Amsterdam and we were torn between a s” >
Isn’t it good? Paul shot the photo from our deck with a telephoto zoom lens.
Beautiful on every level!
Beautiful on every level!
I use to be able to edit my comments so I don’t end up leaving 4 different messages. and I have to delete my cindyhouse account.
Thanks so much, Beth.
Think this may be my favorite blog. You gently weave human, deer and birds day to day life with bigger concerns.
Our lives are both familiar and strange and I can understand how even a earthquake doesn’t really shake us.
I like how you put it. “Familiar and strange” indeed.
Thank you, Beth.
Thanks so much.
it gave me a sense a peace in a world of uncertainty. Never mind I watched that International house hunters- in Amsterdam– truly lovely writing
Thank you, Ruth. I love that we’re house hunting around the world together!
I so enjoyed this. I was in Amsterdam, thinking of my choice with y’all. I definitely relate to taking plants out for the rain (we are getting the first rain today in months) and I did not want it to end as I wanted to hear more of your observations. Thanks so much for sharing this with us!
Means so much to me that you’re reading my blog posts, Bill.
I enjoy reading, but don’t usually make enough time to read. I love it when I find a writer like Anne Lamott who is so good at making the reader feel like they are in the story. As a result, I often have a hard time putting down what I am reading, and I will usually grab a highlighter and underline the passages that speak the most to me. Your writing has the same effect.
What a sweet thing to say. I adore Anne Lamott too.
Thank you, Bill. I love that you take your houseplants out in the rain too. What falls from the sky is so much better than what comes out the hose or faucet, isn’t it?