This Saturday, May 2nd, 2020, was a warm an inviting day. The sky played with a few clouds and sprinkled some rain early, but as the winds blew off the lake, away went the clouds and in came a hazy sun looking for a place to roost. We accepted, and as the hours lapsed, the warmth took us by the hand and led us outside to enjoy a new day in May. Governor Whitmer has begun to lift certain social and business restrictions as the hospital census decrease while still tracking the number of new cases and any outbreaks in rural communities. Those will happen. Those outbreaks. You can sense the capacity of people to lapse into a relaxation of their vigilance among the droplets of a virus with no known immunity. But today was nice enough to allow folks to spread out and be safe while enjoying the myriad outdoor activities we have around our bay region. For me, the day was cleaning the barbeque – sensing a dinner necessity – and tuning up the bikes for a first ride. Christine walked with a friend, and I hit the trail. Starting around the harbor, I found people everywhere, walking, biking, and sitting along the waterline. I took a turn south along the Bear River and slowly peddled the path, weaving around pedestrians. Once past Sheridan, I plopped onto the North Country Trail through marsh, swamp, and boardwalk noting the birds beginning their nesting routines with the new month. I stopped and watched the bright red epaulets of the red winged blackbird; perched high in the branches, I spied the shinny blue sportscoats of the grackles; I saw prancing robins; heard flickers and woodpeckers; spotted a very blue blue jay; and I sang with the cardinals. Sporting a very muddy sprocket and rims, I glided back onto pavement and along the shoreline observing the recent erosion. There was a bench, and there I rested. The water was whitecapped and frothy as the wind crept in, and I began to feel lonely for Christine, but pondering a move was much too disruptive, so I bathed in the glow of Nature for a while longer doing nothing other than staring out toward the horizon. And now, after a happy-hour filled with conversation and discussion, and a dinner break of grilled burgers and various trimmings, I sit in my bedroom perch watching the sun dwindle under the purple, pink, and orange hues of its setting glory. This was a beautiful day in the midst of a pandemic, but a beautiful day for normal times, as well. George Winston plays over my speakers, and I begin my quest of another month telling a tale of COVID Chronicles, having survived thus far.