Cabin Fever sets in about 4:30 pm.

Even though we are, by nature, homebodies we start pacing the floors, restless and unsettled once the sun hits a certain slant and the shadows grow long and lazy and drawn out.

We’ll just go for a short walk. For the sake of our mental health.

Around the block.

Maybe just a bit farther because our mental health could use some help.

We will stay six feet apart from others while holding hands. We will be a gathering of two. A private party. Very exclusive. Don’t be offended if you didn’t make the guest list. We would love to invite everyone but alas…it is forbidden.

We wander the allotted distance. Then just a bit further.
It becomes a game. Wandering from one grand tree to the next.
Waving to neighbors sequestered on porches. Petting dogs, with no knowledge of viruses, as they race the fence line, snouts thrust through gaps in split rail fences. We wonder, will their contact with us result in their snouts being disinfected, the tops of their heads deemed a danger zone? They are good dogs, even if they don’t know to cover their sneezes and respect personal space.

As the sun diminishes by degrees, we debate the mythology of trees.

We wander from one grand tree to the next, I commenting how sad it is that one tree had to become two. Wondering what kind of plague, what Greek God Curse had driven them apart, while my husband marvels at the sight of two trees moving towards each other and becoming one….