Banishing those feelings of trepidation

I'm am used to being alone and I enjoy my own company but in these times of Covid19 I am sometimes overcome by feelings of trepidation. I log on to have a quick look at the news and stay online too long. Then some time later I find myself counting the days since I self quarantined or worrying my nearest and dearest will get really sick. In the 19th century that would probably have been a default setting. Switching back to neutral requires some effort (food is a good distraction.)

On the positive side, I am getting emails from friends who normally don't write. I am sure I am not the only person reestablishing links that had become almost nonfunctional through lack of use. One friend has taken to writing four line poems. Maybe that is something to try, although they are probably much harder than they seem.

My rose painting is progressing.

A bit of shadow in the petals (left) before adding some creamy white (right)

Roses bursting into flower

Despite Hamburg's recent spell of 13C weather, the roses have suddenly burst into flower. This one is an old English rose with a very sweet scent. It is flowering as if its life depended on it.

Old English Rose with antique clock

Wet rose

It's a wet wet day on the NSW Central Coast and 15C. Fifteen degrees Celsius feels quite mild after being in chilly NZ. 

Rain rain rain

The rain just about washed away Easter on the Central Coast and I imagine many campers left early. The rose didn't seem to mind though. This is the little valentine's rose I rescued from Aldi in February when it was on its last legs. I re-potted it and it was so grateful it burst into mass of healthy foliage and produced 10 flower buds. Sydney is usually too hot and humid for roses but this one is doing fine.

Valentine's Day

Ophelia : ...

To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose, and donn'd his clothes,
And dupp'd the chamber-door;
Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more.

William Shakespeare, Hamlet (1600-1601)