The four days of the Easter holiday break flew by, more violet crocuses popped from the ground, we had our first picnic in the forest and spent long time watching the busy fish in the lake, we ate our first meal outside on the deck, we listened to birds – we almost recognize chickadees, cardinals and robins by their song now, there seems to be an abundance of sparrows, on Saturday we heard a white-breasted nuthatch (повзик каролінський), today Merlin picked up a song of a dark-eyed junco and introduced us to a harsh cry of the common grackle. I took a bath for the first time in many years. I was thinking a lot and writing a lot and made a feeble attempt at spring cleaning.

We’ve been conditioned to the dichotomy between the ordinary and the extra-ordinary. I am not an expert, but I guess that this dichotomy stems from the same market forces that keep destroying our planet. The experience of happiness, delight, wonder, awe, joy are sold through influencers and travel websites. You need rest? Get away. Want to discover something new? Travel. Wish your life was more fulfilling? Buy this new device or better yet, subscribe to this service. We’ve internalized the idea that a good weekend is the one spent in some extra-ordinary way. I think that if we are serious about de-growth, if we want to at least try to live in a more sustainable way, we need to fall in love with the ordinary. A walk in the park, an afternoon tea on the deck, an evening with a book, listening to the bird chorus in my backyard, some time with kids, some time alone are all I need for a perfect weekend.