Even the birds have been doing their part during our enforced social distancing. We've all been trying hard and it hasn't been easy. But seems like everyone I talk to, including my walking buddy Pam, is getting tired, drifting through the days with just the occasional wing-flap of energy.
Today is blustery with squally showers. Perched up here in my writing place I have a great view of the beach, the sea, and the people walking about. Even the passing showers and vigorous wind are not keeping people from their daily exercise.
We're getting close to starting week four of our isolation time. Last night I heard a real commotion going on in the street, a group of young kids running up and down the road, screeching, yahooing, shouting, and banging on cooking pots with what sounded like large metal spoons, letting off steam in a big way.
I felt like joining them, charging about under cover of darkness by the light of a near-full moon, shrouded by clouds, giving a cooking receptacle a jolly good thumping. That's one thing I enjoy most about drumming - being able to thump a percussive instrument with a wooden stick. Lovely.
Not that we're all resorting to violence. Far from it. I can only guess that the parents of those kids were at the end of their rope, having been through an Easter Sunday with young ones hyped up on chocolate, finally sending them out with pots and pans to run about the street making noise. It didn't last long. All was silent again in about five minutes. I thought it was great.
Many of us - including me - thought we'd spend this time far more productively than we have. I thought I'd get stuck into writing my third book - and that I'd be halfway through the first draft by now, writing up to six hours a day, keyboard burning hot. Hasn't happened.
But you know, that's OK and I am not beating myself up about anything. I am going with it. We will soon be tasked with getting life back on track, returning to some sort of work, children returning to school or more home-schooling for some, the wheels of industry will begin to turn again, albeit slowly for a while. On our walk yesterday we met a lady who is an early childhood teacher and she said she'd had to learn a whole bunch of new skills during this period - she now uses Zoom like an old hand, and has mastered the art of spreadsheets.
I suspect a lot of us have learned new ways of being because we've had to. We've picked up some knowledge, acquired some skills, completed some things we never thought we would, and goodness knows we've had time to marvel at just how adaptable and strong we can be when the need arises.
Best of all, by staying up on our posts and keeping our distance, we've managed to put a rope around the spread of this bloody virus menace in a way that has the world taking notice.
Good on us.