05.04.20

Laying on the deck reading a book, my exposed skin baking under the midday sun, I was so grateful for the extended summer we are having.

It felt like mid-January; not a care in the world except the wasps zooming about and making sure that I changed positions enough to avoid a crick in the neck.

One day I'll look back at this time, envious of the peace. I had better make the most of it.

04.04.20

Sam and I have been blown away by all the people who have shown us love via message and even practical gifts.

To be honest, before all of this I felt pretty low - it seemed like all my interpersonal connections were becoming weaker as weeks slipped by without seeing friends, which was mainly my fault.

It was easy to feel forgotten or isolated (hah!).

It just took something bad happening to feel the support and love of so many people and it was overwhelming.

Some friends rallied together and dropped off a lovely message and some Countdown vouchers, another got my favourite coffee shipped to me as a treat, family started a rainy day fund in case we need it, and even the neighbour dropped off some freshly baked bread.

It's hard to feel alone when people do such kind, selfless things for you.

I've learnt the power of actions as well as words and I will definitely pay it forward one day when someone needs something that I can give.

03.04.20

Today the sun came up as it always does, and with it came the fresh promise of a new day to fill with anything I wanted to.

It was actually a relief not to feel trapped in my little home office when there were so many more enjoyable things to be done around the place.

I raked up grass, got stuck into the weeds in a neglected area of the garden, and baked some delicious cookies that I had been meaning to make all week.

It was the perfect day of freedom to potter about and do whatever I like.

It felt like a gift.

02.04.20

Today has been surreal in a way which I have never experienced before. I have never truly been in shock until today.

At 9am this morning, our CEO delivered the news via Zoom meeting that Bauer NZ was closing with immediate effect.

We didn't see it coming. Sure, maybe a pay cut or restructure, but to just cut it all off was a surprise.

That's an understatement.

I'm sure this must be the first stage of grief. I'm waiting for the sadness and anger. But mostly it's just a strange void where emotion should be.

01.04.20

At 9:50am I found myself standing in the morning sun stalking wasps to discover their nests.

Everything was still besides the intermittent buzzing, the last of the confused crickets chirping, and the hum of cicadas.

It's hard to believe that there is anything not right with the world.

31.03.20

Picture this. 

You're working away on your laptop in your makeshift home office. Completing some droll email about budgets and preparing a campaign. 

Through the tapping of your keyboard you hear a horse whinny. 

Presumably it is more strange for you than I. 

The neighbours walk their horses almost every day and I'm still getting used to the sounds of the country. 

It was a beautiful and unexpected surprise. 

30.03.20

Today I was very emotionally heightened. There was a great sense of meaning in every action - from a hug to stirring the pot of curry. It was all felt deeply.

The pain was not my own, by my heart physically ached nonetheless.

It really is amazing that the head, heart, and body are so connected that something emotional can be felt in the physical.

29.03.20

At any given moment I like to imagine that everyone is solitary in one of the rooms of their house doing something beautiful and mundane. 

Like a Wes Anderson movie in which the roofs are taken off houses and you get a birds eye view of the occupants.

I guess not everyone is staring out the window at the breeze moving through branches or playing soulful melodies on their guitar though. It’s not all beautiful all the time. 

28.03.20

It's amazing that one day you can be full of gumption and the next all you want to do is finish your puzzle and lay on the couch.

I'm trying to be gracious to myself and not try and be every woman every day. It's ok to have a day in which you don't achieve that much, despite all of the fitspo and organispo content on social media.

27.03.20

Today was full of activity. We chopped wood, stripped it of bark, stacked it up, and dug out a flower bed.

It felt great to have energy for all of this so I decided to walk down to the shop for milk. Sam advised me against it given the length of the walk and the fact that we basically live at the top of a mountain.

I should have listened.

I got down to the little shop feeling great and joined the socially distant queue where I stood in the baking sun for ten minutes before my chance came. Thankfully I didn't forget anything and got out of there before the virus could catch me.

I was a little worried about the dog which had barked at me on the way down but it was good to see the gate had closed on my return and he couldn't terrorise me again.

This was at the base of the hill.

About 50m up the hill the sun was beating down so hot I regretted not buying a Fruju although it probably wouldn't have made it this far. Then after about an age I passed number 47 which I realised wasn't even half way up the now towering peak I saw before me.

It looked different from the top.

When I got to the mid point my lungs were heaving and my legs threatened to give way. I was tempted to call the rescue helicopter but I soldiered on, only stopping to press the cold milk bottle against my face.

I had already wiped it with a disinfectant wipe.

I made it through our gate with my arms held high as if I was crossing the ribbon on an Iron Man challenge.

Before promptly collapsing onto the grass and swearing never to do that again.

26.03.20

Gazing out the window from my new spot in the spare room, I can see bees and butterflies weaving in and out of the flowers that are finally beginning to look alive again after the rain.

It strikes me that even though the human world seems to be totally upended at the moment, the natural world just keeps going, oblivious to our uncertainty.

The sun will keep rising, the rain keep falling, and the leaves will prepare for their descent to the ground. They will eventually become food for the flowers which provide food for the bees and butterflies.

And so on.

25.03.20

I realise that for some people, setting doesn't matter so much. They would be happy enough to spend their time in adequate surroundings. I am not one such person.

I need a constant source of natural light, enough warmth, pretty things to look at, and minimal clutter.

This being said, the dining room table was not cutting it as a work space. The mounting pile of dishes was always in sight, the fridge far too near, and my pilates mat was staring at me (who would have thought that working from home suddenly motivates you to work out).

I made Sam help me bring the outdoor table inside and set up shop in our spare room. After a bit of juggling and fiddling about with cables, I have now found my zen spot surrounded by plants, candles, and unfortunately, the washing.

I believe that I am now 80% more productive. At least.

24.03.20

The smell of healthy soil hit me this evening as I was ripping out granny's bonnets from the garden.

The earthy scent was heady and bursts of it shot through the crisp air as I ripped roots from the ground with force.

After a day cooped up inside it was just what my senses needed to jolt into action.

23.03.20

Today the Prime Minister declared a nationwide lockdown. 

The past days and weeks have been filled with so much uncertainty that I felt some of the internal panic that I’ve been trying to stifle subside. At least I know where I’ll be in the next four weeks. At home.

Home, where I can choose whether or not to engage with the constant chatter about this virus and the government’s efforts. They’re damned if they do, damned if they don’t. 

I think Jacinda Ardern has done a sterling job so far. What a year for her! Mass shootings, volcanic eruptions, measles outbreak, and now a pandemic. No wonder she looks a bit knackered. 

I think we’re all a bit knackered to be honest. 

But this isn’t supposed to be a winge. It’s supposed to be a record of this period of time and a way to appreciate the simple, beautiful things in life that slip by unnoticed in the rush of life. With the slowing pace of life, I’m hoping there will be more opportunity to notice the remarkable in each day. 

Like the sound of the wind racing through the trees outside. I don’t even need to see it or feel it to understand the sheer force as it whips up the valley. I am imagining the trees outside the window behind me are fighting against the power of the wind, bending under the pressure. 

There is a lot of strength in a leaf to cling on to its branch under such duress. Or perhaps it’s the fact that there are so many leaves in the battle so they share the load. 

Whatever the case, I’m sure there’s a message in there about sticking together and fighting this thing.