Many of you who were old enough to go to the movies in 1993 remember the movie “Groundhog Day” starring Bill Murray. The gist of the story was a time-loop that each time Bill Murray went to bed at night, he would wake up in the morning and relive the same day over and over again.

I feel like we are experiencing the rerun of “Groundhog Day” during this time of the coronavirus. We pretty much stay in the house except those who venture outside to garden or go for a walk, order groceries on the computer and wait for notification from them when we can drive to pick them up without getting out of the car and visit family (who live nearby) via FaceTime.

There are no professional sports being played, much of the menu of choices on TV is reruns and the hair on one’s head continues to grow while no barbershops or hair salons are open. Maybe I will get to relive the 1960s and have my hair grow like a hippie. At that time I was too conservative to have a ponytail (maybe I still am).

In an attempt to break the Groundhog Day rut, the week of March 29, I decided to take a walk of a mile or so and sharpen my five senses of vision, hearing, taste, smell and touch by trying to be extra sensitive of what I was doing.

As soon as I stepped outside, the sweet smell of freshly cut grass did not tickle my nostrils because the first cutting of grass in the neighborhood had not yet been done. Instead, I smelled the pungent smell of federalizer that had recently been sprayed throughout the neighborhood to improve grass growth. Oh well, at least it wasn’t fertilizer for the crops of food planted by the local farmers. I have yet to understand when this smell combines with a breeze that it aims the smell directly at our home.

Of course during my entire walk, the gift of sight was preeminent. From the blankets of daffodils to the patchwork of tulips; the reddish tinge of many of the maple trees trying to burst open their leaves and the beauty of the white Bradford Pear tree blossoms, which were in full bloom waiting for a stiff breeze to blow them like confetti onto the grass.

Hearing is also a wonderful sense. Different sounds that we hear can be very beneficial to us to warn of danger or, it can amuse us. While walking by the pond in the neighborhood, I heard a particularly loud honking. As I walked closer to the pond, I saw five mature geese honking with all their might as they swam in formation.

There was also a young gosling that was always bringing up the rear with its adult family members. Every so often the mature geese would change direction and swim back the way they came. Sure enough the young gosling took up its position at the rear of the group.

Boy, I wish I knew what those geese were honking about. Was it to warn of my coming or finding some food? I don’t know because I don’t speak “geeseeze.”

When I was over halfway home, the silly rooster in a backyard of a house was practicing its cock-a-doodle-do repeatedly. I don’t know if the rooster had partied too much the night before or what because I thought roosters crowed at the crack of dawn and it was about 10:30 a.m.!

It wasn’t until I neared the end of my walk that I used my senses of taste and touch and then in a different way. I saw big, billowy white clouds that reminded me of marshmallows against the beautiful blue sky.

But wait! As my memory got off track to many yesteryears ago, I thought something was wrong with that sky. The background should have been a milky brown. Yes, I was in eighth grade. Our homework was to write a one page essay on anything we wanted.

Since I was an avid baseball fan, I reminisced about being at Connie Mack Baseball Stadium in Philadelphia. I would go to the park with buddies of mine. We would arrive as early as possible to watch batting practice and then the preparing of the field for the game. The groundskeepers would smooth the infield out to remove pebbles and ruts. What a pretty color of light brown, which I visualized as being coco. Then they would spray the infield down with a hose (I thought for those who liked a stronger coco as the light brown turned to a darker brown but really it was to reduce dust storms).

Then the piece de resistance. The groundskeepers would take the covering off the bases to find immaculate pure white marshmallows floating in that tantalizing coco. Yes, in my imagination, I could feel those marshmallows as I put them in my coco as well as tasted them.

Oh, what time well spent!

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