Seeing the pandemic from LIW's eyes

 Good day,

My title is obviously fanciful: Laura Ingalls Wilder did not write about a pandemic. But because I am re-reading various books in the Little House series in support of my teaching, I happened upon this passage:

After the October Blizzard last fall, they had all moved to town and for a little while Laura had gone to school there. Then the storms had stopped school, and all through that long winter the blizzards had howled between the houses, shutting them off from each other so that day after day and night after night not a voice could be heard and not a light could be seen through the whirling snow.

All winter long, they had been crowded in the little kitchen, cold and hungry and working hard in the dark and the cold to twist enough hay to keep the fire going and to grind wheat in the coffee mill for the day's bread.

All that long, long winter, the only hope had been that sometime winter must end, sometime blizzards must stop, the sun would shine warm again and they could all get away from the town and go back to the homestead claim.

Not a perfect analogy, obviously, but it resonated yesterday. Edmonton enjoyed a beautiful spring day: sunshine, melting snow, people out walking and greeting each other ... For a few hours I felt hopeful.