it’s become very frightening not knowing how this invisible thing will manifest in our lives, and yet we teachers have an obligation to do our damnedest.

first wild swan i’ve seen in the north country, about 3 miles from home

already i’ve seen wonders, here in the creek three pair of mallards.

and we have seen this ice mostly disappear and the meadows soggy, soggy as too-waterlogged pasta

often the spent plants look like handmade paper before the new greens poke through the leaf litter

we walked and walked, and nell can now walk a mile and a half in a day, and we can walk up the granite ledges. these little ones here define my small spring bulb garden

and here are brave green strings, crocus spears

and the one swan became…

and there was a third one on the marsh as well. this week i saw, one day: redwing blackbirds, robins, and one damned tick, another day a swan, a bald eagle and a skunk, and the next day three swans…i am taking solace in these march miracles as i and my colleagues at st lawrence find a safe path for our students, try to provide guidance for them in the things known, including us, including me, and provide a modicum of stability in this sneaky crisis that we ignored too long. most students have left campus. after next week, which is their spring break, they will stay away for two weeks, and then we just don’t know. if they return things will be different. if they stay away things will be different. no matter what we are all more vulnerable, and if we’re good humans we’re more humane and caring. for my part i will be teaching online (book arts online to non-art majors) and one colleague in kentucky is in the same position. she’s determined to find an art way through this, and many of us are keen to join in. more on that if/when/how it occurs. i’ve sent my 10 home with two weeks of assignments, and my very best caring wishes. and fuckit, i couldn’t even give them hugs goodbye.