A strange Easter

Easter surprise while walking
on Capitol Hill

Twenty-twenty.  The year we approached such a short time ago with cautiously hopeful anticipation.  The year that quickly became an annus horribilis, a year that we will tell stories about to future generations. 

And today, Easter.  The Easter when the churches all stood empty.  When in the past two thousand years had that ever happened?

And yet -- life goes on.  Nature is undeterred.  In fact, here in Seattle, Easter 2020 was a beautiful day.  Blue sky, bright sun, flowers blooming in every yard, and the leaves of big deciduous trees just beginning to open.

Because I can't stay locked up in the house all day, even to avoid a cunningly novel virus, I went out for my daily walk.  This is the first weekend that all of Seattle's major parks have been closed; we were bad children last weekend and congregated in the parks -- just as we had been warned against.  So no walking through the Arboretum, which had been getting too crowded for me on weekends in any event -- and, recently, even on weekdays as well.  And no crossing into the University District -- a favorite hike -- because of the perils posed especially on weekends by runners and bikers competing for sidewalk space on both the Montlake and the University bridges.

My options were becoming somewhat limited, but I decided to head for Capitol Hill.  From my house, there is a maze of small, funny streets that wind up onto the Hill, hugging the eastern edge of Interlaken Park.  Having achieved the top, by Stevens School, I headed south on 19th and 18th Avenues, past St. Joseph's Church, until I reached Roy.  I turned right, and headed west to 14th, and then turned right again back to Prospect.  At this point, I was on the southern border of Volunteer Park.  I headed west to Federal Avenue, which runs along the western side of Volunteer Park, and followed it for a  long distance northwards, past Seattle Prep, to the west entrance to Interlaken Park.  I then walked the entire length of that beautiful park back to my house.

In four miles, I thus looped Volunteer Park, without ever actually setting foot in it -- its having been supposedly closed to the public.  Interlaken Park is a forested area that surrounds Interlaken Bouevard.  It is frequented by walkers and bikers; it is not the sort of playground, however, that causes dangerous crowds to congregate, and so it was not closed.

The entire walk was an exhilarating pleasure, even though I've often done it before.  The weather was perfect, the flowers and trees showed their newly awakened splendor, and my fellow walkers were friendly and careful about maintaining distance.  Walking the long winding boulevard through Interlaken Park -- half of which has long been closed to vehicular traffic -- is almost like walking an easy trail through a wilderness forest.  We had just enough of a breeze to provide a constant rustling sound in the trees above us.  And coming down from Capitol Hill, I noticed for the first time that the upper half of Mount Baker's snowy volcanic cone was visible over the buildings of Seattle Prep.  The atmosphere is clearer than usual,  apparently because of the drastic reduction in traffic.

I realized as I walked how lucky I am.  I live in a beautiful portion of a beautiful city.  My house isn't huge, but it has ample space for a single resident, and it has front and back yards that seem to expand the size of the house when weather is good.  I realize that many fellow citizens are trapped in much smaller quarters -- even studio apartments -- and in much less pleasant surroundings.  The New York Times recently carried a photo feature illustrating the problems faced by Queens residents under the stay-at-home rules required by the pandemic.

Yes, I'm lucky.  And after a day like today, I feel less inclined to complain about my travel plans for the year having been wiped out, about my ability to visit relatives being temporarily ended, about my ability to move casually even around my own state being discouraged.  Someday, we will make whatever adjustments to a new reality that are necessary, and life will still be worth living. 

Meanwhile, I'll be patient.  I'll be optimistic. And I'll find worthwhile pleasures wherever they wait to be found.

Happy Easter!