Walks in the Days of Coronavirus

Not frequently but when the weather is nice I continue to take my short walks and continue photographing the neighborhood. The last two times I even put my mask on. Due to the shortage of masks, we don’t throw them away. I spray the inside and the outside with alcohol to sanitize them, mine and Jan’s.

April 1 Walk

The roads are not quite but darn close to being empty. I could stand in the middle of the road several times to take photographs. The long road somewhat symbolized the road ahead with the virus pandemic. Long and meandering.

I have been photographing what I call “tar doodles” for quite some time. These days, they seemed to take on a different meaning as if to symbolize the path the US government taking to fight the killer pandemic. They go every which way, making random turns for no good reason. I photographed new tar doodles even more comfortably because of almost empty streets. At some junctions, the road split as if to present a test to me. Which way? I don’t really know!

April 5 Walk

Yesterday, as I started my walk, I noticed the pile of thick branches on a neighbor’s sidewalk. Looking at the pile I tried to envision the thorny situation we are dealing with and how some try to obfuscate the real problem by injecting a thick stack of thorny but unrelated issues. Walking down the Narragansett Parkway, I was able to catch a couple of more tar doodles before turning on to Fair Street. The red-white-blue stripes in the middle of the road that veered to a curve without me seeing what was behind made me think of America on a path with an unseen destiny. Yet, filled with more tar doodles, confusion, and misdirection!

On the sidewalk where I walked many times before, I noticed a couple of handprints pressed on the concrete when it was first poured some years ago. The kid or kids who did that are probably grown-ups now. They have already left their mark. I hope that they will have many more years to leave other kinds of marks whoever they may be.

The little building, probably part of the Asbury Methodist Church, has always appealed to me with its diminutive proportions and almost two-dimensional look. The trees behind it make it look like it has hair, certainly a lot more than mine. Yesterday, there was a light on it probably because my walk was two hours later than the one I took a few days before. I liked the light.

Looking down the street, on Fair Street still, I noticed a tall tree with branches curved downward, all in the shape of “the curve” we are all trying to flatten. It stood like a reminder of many a curve we will have to endure as a nation, all with slightly different shapes yet all tied together.

I don’t know if it started with that tree of curves, but several other trees grabbed my attention on the way telling me slightly different things as I walked and photographed them. I created the last one by stitching three photographs to emphasize the side stretched roots and how far they may go. They, along with the light on the diminutive building, gave me a sense of comfort. If the roots are strong, there will eventually be light.

If the roots are strong!

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