The street below my window resembles a Spring cover of the New Yorker illustrated by Jean-Jacques Sempe: the sun shines; the flowers bloom in pink and white, little fat figures go about their business, and an overstuffed oblong dog can't decide whether to run right or left. The cartoonist is in his pastel heaven and all is right with the world.
But, alas, it isn't, of course. A virulent virus stalks the land and we are forced to work from home or 'shelter in place' or practice some other form of self isolation. It's not quite the Black Death but it's certainly becoming the Grey Illness. Instead of gangs of self-flagellators roaming the countryside we have gangs of medical experts appearing on TV, often with contradictory advice. So all we can really know for sure is that we must wash our hands regularly, avoid close contact with people, and not to panic because trillions of stimulus dollars are being released into the economy. They also say don't hoard essential supplies but, being mindful of logistical failures of the past, I'm not entirely convinced on that score.
So I wonder what the street below my window will look like come early summer? A colorful, cute cartoon where life goes on as usual in all its sunlit glory? Or a piece of brown plain paper slowly disintegrating into the sidewalk? Frankly, I'll take anything by Charles Addams at this point.
