It is 5 p.m. during a pandemic. On these warm spring evenings, I pour myself a glass of crisp Russian River Valley Sauvignon Blanc and head outside to join my sheltering in place companion, nature. Admiring an outdoor water feature, structured after Andy Goldsworthy’s hand-to-earth art, I watch as water gently trickles from the top of the fountain spiraling to the base, attracting many birds with beautiful song. Western meadowlark bubbling flute-like notes, whistling “wheet.” Western scrub-jay with their short series raspy “shreep,” and the female horned lark’s high “tsee-ee.”
This water feature symmetrically positioned between two green fig trees is an amphitheatre for this daily concert.
A silver lining of sheltering in place is being quiet enough to appreciate our five senses. The sound of the water, so calming as it inspires the twilling of sparrows, fluttering of hummingbirds. In front of me, a hummingbird frenetically pokes its beak into the fountain to test the waters. Feeling safe, she dives into trickling droplets enjoying a bath accompanied by gently ringing chimes nearby that respond to the smallest breath of wind.
Listening to these sounds, I open my eyes, take another sip of wine and marvel at the late afternoon shadows of light bouncing between shiny new spring green leaves of pink climbing roses. This arc of roses welcomes guests into the flower and vegetable gardens that are farmed using biodynamic practices. A soft humming of bees begins to subside with the setting sun.
Here’s what I’ve learned about a pandemic this week — miracles abound. On Easter Sunday throughout the world we were united with a different kind of singing, Andrea Bocelli in a concert streaming live from the Duomo di Milano. His magnificent voice echoed from the empty cathedral built beginning in the year 1386, with a capacity for more than 40,000 people. Andrea Bocelli stood alone with the organist sitting six feet apart accompanying this “Music for Hope.”
Often my heart feels anxious, unable to help the most vulnerable among our society who suffer greatly from this virus that has no end in sight. I lace my hiking boots and head for the hills. Noticing brilliant pink dogwood trees, fields of purple lupine and fiery orange patches of California poppies lifts my spirits.
Back to the steady rhythm of the falling water in front of me: The trilling of the sparrows, rays of afternoon light playing with the delicate threads of a spider’s web. The sweet smell of orange blossoms is intoxicating.
The one lesson of this pandemic I hope never to lose is this necessity of staying in the moment. All that came before now seems irrelevant. What comes after is yet to be known.
My intention was to write this column about a conversation I overheard between my son and his friend on Skype, both of whom are in the wine business. I asked about wine sales in this pandemic, and was told they are up in grocery stores and with wine club orders. I couldn’t help but reflect on how challenged we were in the 1980s and 1990s to even interest Americans in drinking wine. Now, we have a culture that is comforted by wine in these most desperate of times. Families and friends are gathering throughout the world on Zoom calls, wine glasses in hand, sharing their stories, their children, their hope. Wine, like music, is uniting us.
Stay safe, stay home, play music that inspires and drink wines that make your spirits soar. Like the majestic oaks charred by the Kincade Fire merely six months ago that are now sprouting tender new shoots, we too will survive this ordeal.
Marie Gewirtz represents wine and food clients with marketing and communications in Sonoma County and throughout the world. She can be reached at [email protected].
