*Redbuds in bloom:* watercolor, ink and collage L Doctor Sketchbook

Cloister, as a verb, is what the whole world is engaged in: seclude or shut up in or as if in a convent. As a noun, cloister is a covered walkway, a colonnade, or a cathedral … this is our best option, to somehow make this time into a walkway or cathedral. Imagine, a worldwide cathedral.

I am writing a mid-month missive to cheer us up. Many of you have probably been introduced to the series of short essays by Ross Gay: The Book of Delights. And perhaps you have heard his interview on OnBeing? Steven ordered the book to cheer me up. I highly recommend it. In spite of the title, it is not lightweight. Ross Gay is aware of the proximity between death and joy, terror and delight.

The first hint of green was from a tall maple, whose shape of new leaves surprised me…and then the azalea deciding to bloom early. L Doctor Sketchbook

His essays are well written, short and often humorous. They can be read as a meditation each morning during this time of being separated from people you love. I am now in the middle of his book.

Yesterday I was walking in my garden, trying to get in the frame of mind of finding delight in these sobering times.

Out in my garden, sitting on the stone wall, I notice a small plastic container. When I pick it up, I see that it is unopened, and is clearly labeled “International Delight.” Perhaps it is for a Keurig? This is something I don’t own, and have never had. Nor have I ever imagined that a drink could be called international delight. At first it looked like one of those containers for fake cream for your coffee, which I confess to always being suspicious of, not only because of infinite plastic filling our oceans, but also being a long-time scrutinizer of labels listing ingredients. My allegiance is to the real thing, like milk or cream from the cow.
Or the mockingbird that stopped me in the woods today, way at the top of the tallest tree, singing and singing. A beautiful and unpredictable song, having freely borrowed from whoever delighted her. I stayed a long time, and she was still singing when I left.
In spite of my reservations about content, this Caramel Macchiato, left by an unknown stranger, with Delight written in bold letters with a capital D that has a curl … this unopened container of Delight is a confirmation, like Ross Gay says, that in looking for delight, you find more of it.