Peepers

Across the cemetery from where we live, the teenagers have moved out into a tent. They’re cocooning out the coronavirus.

Not such a bad idea, I think.

My daughter, to keep herself amused while I’m working, creates a scrapbook of her friends, taking her time pasting in gold numbers and colored bits of paper.

I’ve lost track of days, of weeks; we’re somewhere in April, and that’s about the best I can do. Some days my older daughter disappears to work; some days my younger daughter disappears for a virtual version of school.

I keep on working. The squill blooms. The peepers sing.

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By Brett Ann Stanciu

Brett Ann Stanciu lives with her two daughters in Hardwick, Vermont. Her creative nonfiction book, Unstitched: My Journey to Understand Opioid Addiction and How People and Communities Can Heal, will be published by Steerforth Press in September 2021. Her novel about rural life in Vermont, Hidden View, was published in 2015.

6 comments

  1. Peepers! Heard their raucous chorus while walking up on Keeler Pond Road yesterday, along with wood frogs ‘quacking’ in a vernal pool. And pussy willows! It’s always so exciting to find pussy willows and hear the peepers; the excitement doesn’t fade with age.
    And blankets of squill!

  2. Lots of birds singing here too. We found ways to keep track of the passage of time by making certain nights of the week special. A cartoon night, a rotating movie night, a rotating board game night and a rotating pizza night – each member of our household rotates between making or picking what we’re doing each week except for cartoon night – we have specific long running shows we watch each week for those. We have a no electronics rule for those nights too (except pizza night) to help us stay connected to our current situation. Maybe implementing stuff like that would help you also.

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