Originally published on 18 April 2020
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that low’r’d upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Richard The Third Act 1, Scene 1
Spring came really early this year in Philadelphia with blue carpets of crocus languishing upon the brown of winter grass and daffodils – yellow and white – winking and waving at us from their small enclaves around the yard.
But this isn’t our usual spring bringing excitement of renewal and a sense of a future ahead. This is our spring of discontent.
It was difficult to look outside and see the abundance of trees and grass coming to life knowing we were losing a person every sixty seconds here in the northeast to the COVID-19 virus.
And knowing the losses are slowing brings a solace of sorts that we may have passed the worst of the outbreak, at least here.
Now, we wait for that summer made glorious by the sun of York.