Lately I’ve been experiencing more and more disruption of what I’ve long considered “normal” time. I know I’m not alone as many I know are finding similar recently. Some days seem to start and end just minutes apart—getting out of bed and back into it with the whole of the day, however long that was, lost in fuzzy memories. On other days time just seems to just stop and make room for whatever else I want to add into them. Has it always been this way or is it COVID times? Perhaps it is my limited cultural perceptions of “reality?”
Regardless, for one hour yesterday—maybe that hour we sprung ahead for on Sunday—I found myself on the edge of the North Branch of the Winooski River with my friend Rob, our cameras in hand, marvelling at a world that tips between freezing and thawing, ice and water, unmoving and flowing, a miraculous world that has been here long before I have, all in a time only a river can know.