Where I grew up, only five kilometers from where I normally work at the Voice of America headquarters in Washington, there was a woodland in my back yard that continued for hectares.
I now live in Reston, Virginia, with its magnificent trees.
Songbirds spend the day with me, whether I work in my outdoor office on the side of the house, or in my indoor office in the kitchen.
Indoors, Orange, my grandson's goldfish, keeps me company. He swims to the top of the tank when he sees me holding his can of fish food. Before spending so much time with Orange, I didn't know that goldfish can be taught to swim through hoops and can perform other tricks; I now also know that goldfish can live up to 10 years.
Since I began working at home, I've had the challenge of learning to use new software, which doesn't come naturally and is sometimes frustrating. But on the plus side, I can spend more time in the woods where I walk Mini, our family dog.
In the woods, and in my yard, oak trees soar some 30 meters from the ground, and the tulip poplars can be just as tall. The poplars have tulip-shaped leaves and green and yellow flowers that bloom in late spring.
These trees provide food and shelter for many native birds, insects and animals. Oaks can host more than 500 different kinds of caterpillars -- an amazing factoid that I just looked up. Their acorns feed bluejays, deer and other mammals.
Four of my oak trees died this year. It will take a couple of years to burn through the firewood from just one of them.
I plan to plant more native trees and bushes in their place.
Swaths of the North American forests are being bulldozed to make room for highways and homes and businesses, and since I started telecommuting, I've learned that instead of replacing them with native plants, landscape architects are pushing non-natives that are inedible or even deadly for animals and insects in this part of the world.
There are regulations requiring people to maintain their lawns in most of the neighborhoods in Reston, yet the turf grass that makes up these lawns originated in Europe.
It's all lovely, but if people replace turf grass with native trees and plants, and even native grasses, we can help prevent songbirds, bees and butterflies from disappearing. Two of my neighbors have already done it. This year I've decided to make that choice.
It's a movement supported by native American plant societies, and one that I hope will gain ground across the U.S.
What I've been sharing with you is so far removed from the devastation the coronavirus has caused. That devastation literally keeps me up at night. I read and write about it during the day and even at night.
But the solace I get from being outdoors reminds me that there is hope. Hope for a cure. Hope for a vaccine. Hope that we can end this pandemic and learn from it, so we can move on together to help heal one another, and this beautiful world where we live.