The Turtle's Back is Orange

The turtle’s back is orange and I wasn’t watching.

(Mackinac Island - Ojibwe "Big Turtle" - Mishi-mikinaak)

Summer crept away. 

The moment this dawned on me I remember well. I was looking across Lake Huron facing Mackinac Island on a cool afternoon. It had mutated into a mass of oranges.

I tend to mentally flog myself if I don’t pay attention to seasonal changes. Seasons haven’t looked the same since March. That’s when I migrated to St. Ignace to temporarily be with my mom.

Acute awareness of changing seasons is ingrained in me. I grew up in northern Michigan among fisherman, sailors, tourist traps and upper peninsula survivors. 

If you didn’t have your cords of wood stocked up for the winter, your boat ship-shape for summer, your garden planted in spring and your snow-tires on in autumn, natural consequences hover like a silent teacher reeking with vapors of “I told you so!” 

This is the first time Covid-19 marked itself as a season of its own. A season of gloom. Like black storm clouds pausing indefinitely above, predicting bad weather ahead. No prior experience or upbringing readied me for this long, drawn out, unmerciful season. No matter how much germ-gel, stocked food, masks or closed doors I have, it stays. I don't feel I am ever prepared enough.

Yeah, the turtle’s back is orange. The birdbath has been wiped down and put in the shed. The water is now colder than my body and my wetsuit want to tolerate. I’m alive to write, love and see beyond the doom-clouds of this drawn-out covid.

I’m not giving covid permission to hide the natural seasons. I’m alive. 

Yes, there’s no doubt about it—-my life has been modified. No insight prepared me for this lingering season. I would never have predicted I would watch the birds and squirrels as much as I have since this season hit. They seem to know seasons have their own seasons "within" and it doesn’t stop what they have to do to survive. 

I’ve been aware of passing of seasons in a way I never have before. Covid has forced me to learn. To live this season until the next one comes. Stay diligent and adjust as needed.

Changes are constant. Underneath the orange, the turtle is still the turtle. I’m still Maggie. Thriving as I go. Evolving under new conditions. I’m doing my best not to lose myself under the gloom. I didn’t think it was possible to hold an umbrella over my head indefinitely. I’m doing it, though and I can see my strength increasing.

What’s the most powerful lesson I’ve learned? To take time to notice the turtle has transformed and see it for what it is. 

My hope is others have developed new skills to survive this covid-gloom. I’ve never felt alone in the shadow of this cloud. I feel for my co-Americans.

 

Sending out a mending love to all from the core of my heart.

My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue,

And everlasting vision of the ever-changing view.

                                       Carol King (from Tapestry).