Front Porch: Simple rhubarb dish, company good recipe for joy

I made a rhubarb crisp earlier this month.

This is not exactly a big deal, of course, but it kind of was. It was the first time since the start of the COVID era that I felt like making one. Or took much delight in making anything special.

I had thoughts of doing so last year, but the deer had decimated my rhubarb plants, eating the leaves and tromping through the stalks. Other than annoyance that this happened, I wasn’t all that upset, as I was only half interested in the project anyhow.

I have a new deer-proofing system in place this year, and if it continues to work throughout the summer, I’ll happily report on its success. It’s been a losing endeavor for some years.

But back to the rhubarb – I went out back to the wild area of the yard with some anticipation, pulled some stalks, got the fruit ready (adding some strawberries) and made, if I might say so, a mighty tasty dessert for the company that came over on a Sunday night.

Oh … and we’re starting to have friends over to the house for dinner again.

Even though we’re vaccinated and boosted with everything available, we’re still cautious about how we engage with the world. My husband’s business is a one-man operation. If he gets COVID, the business stops in its tracks. He wears a mask everywhere and still is reluctant to go to places where large groups of people are gathered – so, no symphony concerts, weddings or funerals, and only occasional dining out (and at off hours, at that).

I’m immunocompromised, so I still mask at the grocery store, post office, hardware store or anywhere there are lots of people together in one space. I do allow myself the luxury of lunches with friends, always trying to find noncrowded places and wearing a mask through whatever crowd there might be at the door, unmasking when seated.

Maybe I’m kidding myself about these precautions, but … so far, so good. What I haven’t conquered yet is the malaise that came along with the life changes that the pandemic wrought.

The reason I’m focusing on the rhubarb is that it feels like a glimmer of hope, something that I actually looked forward to doing again. It made me happy. There is so much that I’m doing these days just to stay active, but without much joy. Kind of the fake-it-until-you-make-it syndrome.

What hasn’t helped any of this is the divisiveness in the land – over politics, social issues and just a coarsening of human interaction. My political persuasion has taken some tough hits recently, which, naturally, worsens the gloom.

A good friend in California sent me an email recently asking how I was doing. And so, I wrote her back and told her exactly how I was doing and how I saw no hope, at least in my lifetime, for all that I hold dear (not to exaggerate or anything). And I hit “send.”

I heard back immediately. She told me how surprised she was that my message actually made her feel good. Please understand the context. She wasn’t happy for my gloom. It was that my words expressed exactly what she was feeling, she said, and that it was comforting to know she wasn’t alone in her thoughts.

We had a long talk by phone a few days later and realized that a lot of people are in the same boat, but reluctant to say the words out loud. Many of us are fortunate enough to be living lives of relative privilege, so it seems so ungrateful to feel the way we do.

Getting past life as we’ve been living it in the COVID era will take time. Adjusting my brain to the realities of an America I find difficulty recognizing will take a whole other level of effort. But the human spirit can only be down for so long before it wants to find joy in doing things again.

I’ll start with the delight of a fresh rhubarb crisp on a summer day.

Voices correspondent Stefanie Pettit can be reached by email at upwindsailor@comcast.net.