When I became a nurse, one thing that was stressed over and over was the need to meet all of the patient needs. Not just physical, but emotional, and spiritual as well.

During this strange time we are in, I have been tuning in with all my senses as a way to take care of myself.

The time I spend on my front porch is most indicative of this.

The first thing I worked on when I started concentrating on my wrap around front porch was the visual things – cleaning up the dead leaves, trimming plants that needed to be cut back, pulling weeds and tiny tree sprouts.

Then I added flowers and plants that made me happy to look at. A variety of shapes, plants, and colors, all blooming and growing at different speeds and vibrancy.

That used to be the end of it for me – look at the pretty flowers and trees. Now, being outside is so much more.

The magnolia trees are starting to bloom, and for the first time, I brought a large, waxy blossom close to my nose, and took in the luscious, tropical fragrance. As I pick up the spent leaves, stacking them in my hands like letters, I hear the crunch as they slide against each other, seemingly unbreakable. I feel the thick and smooth leaves gathering in my hands, moving them to the mulch pile in large, accordion like stacks.

I come out early to the porch some mornings , just to hear the birds singing the sunrise forth. I listen to the chains creek as the large ferns sway in the breeze. I hear the gentle wind chimes as they get a push from an extra burst of wind.

In the afternoon, I hear the intermittent buzzing of cicadas – to me, a distinctly southern sound.

I feel the breeze on my face, grateful for this long and cool spring we have enjoyed. The faux wicker chair presses a pattern into my arm as I rest on it, a minor distraction from the screeching mockingbirds fighting over their turf.

Today I’m greeted by new blooms – the gardenia, which certainly must be what heaven smells like. Rose of Sharon is right in my view, looking tropical with its papery thin petals and splash of color around the prominent yellow stamen.

Not many cars go by on my street…especially these days. The only scurrying is the squirrels racing around the crepe myrtles, who are stretching their branches out long, waiting for their turn to bloom.

This – this is how I’m caring for myself in these strange times we are in. Just sitting on the porch, like before.

But noticing so much more.