Frances Boswell, Thoughts by Frances Boswell

When it feels like there is absolutely nothing you can do about a situation – it helps to do something. This is how I find myself volunteering with Cornwall Social Services in the midst of the COVID-19 heartbreaking pandemic. I am just one of many who gathered at the firehouse mid March, showing each other the same courteous distance that one usually reserves for a bear or snapping turtle. Gosh I hope that will always feel weird! We were briefed on virus transmission, safety protocol and the significant needs of the Cornwall community – specifically those of its homebound or otherwise high risk residents.

I opted to deliver food and groceries which given the enormity of the operation is really a very small task. Before food deliveries are made – other people spend hours shopping, sorting, packing, labeling etc. All of this is spearheaded by Heather Dissen, who manages the whole situation with calmness and grace. It is, however, something I feel confident in doing. I have schlepped many a grocery bag – usually to a New York city photo studio where I prepare and produce images of aspirational food for cookbooks, products and advertisements. This is purely practical but still allows me to feel connected to a belief that food nourishes the spirit and body in more or less equal amounts. The appreciative waves from those who have received groceries proves, to me anyway, this to be true.

I now have two children at home – both with the rug of young adulthood pulled out from underneath them. We are well. We are together. We are lucky. Still, it is easy to fall into habits of despair. I am absolutely guilty of lounging in my sweat pants long after lunch and maybe contemplating a scotch an hour earlier than I should. The usual framework of my day is rendered meaningless right now. My new responsibilities give me much needed structure, a sense of purpose and accomplishment and a connection to a town that I presently call home – even if opening my own front door causes me to hesitate and relive where I have been – what I have touched. Sometimes, while out on my rounds, I call my mother. Her retirement home is in lockdown and I am so grateful for the people who care for her. There was snow on the ground when we started this. Now the Cornwall hills are covered in Easter color blossoms. A velvet moss blankets the stumps of felled trees. Soon I will swerve from the road in search or ramps and nettles en route to people’s homes. All this beauty makes me wonder if nature is just as scared of this strange new world and simply doing its best to let us know we are not alone.