Oh hey, my name is Levi.

As I've grown older it's become a lot easier for me to tell when I'm in desperate need of a break. Apathy sets in and every task feels tedious, boring, and nearly impossible to finish. I've had a lot of experience, but to be clear, it took living through a deadly pandemic, starting talk therapy, and medication for me to be able to identify the signals of slowly burning out.

The best way I can describe my mindset when I get this way is that I'm mad at everything, and I don't want to do anything. I've felt this way all week, so yesterday I took a personal day to rest and recharge. I spent the day doing nothing. I laid on the couch for five to six hours, pet my dogs, watched a couple of movies and YouTube videos, ate pizza, and then went to bed early. No laptop, no productivity, just rest and purposeful distractions.

I feel like a different person today. I was able to get a wonderful night's sleep which is also crucial for a reset. This morning when I sat down at my computer everything seemed clear, I felt motivated, and was more productive than I have been for quite a while. I recognize the privilege of being able to take a last-minute day off to do nothing, but if you occasionally get to feeling this way too, it's ok to take a day off every once in a while.

I started growing a garden in my back yard two years ago in the spring of 2021. Everyone was still in full pandemic mode at that point and the vaccines were just starting to roll out. Gardening seemed like a good activity to pick up back then. It's mostly done outdoors, it doesn't necessarily need to be a group activity, and I love to cook so having a supply of home-grown vegetables is very welcome. I had several pandemic hobbies. This one just happened to stick and it was a real bright spot in an otherwise bleak time. This coming spring will be my third growing season.

This morning I was making coffee at the kitchen sink, staring out into the back yard. It's been a sunny and fairly warm (47°F/8°C) day for February, a welcome treat in the deepest, grayest part of the Midwestern winter. Looking out at one of the small raised beds I built last year, I noticed two small green tufts sticking up out of the dirt among all the other gray and brown dead stuff. It was two small bunches of chives I cut off at ground level last fall shortly after our first frost. Those two bunches came from splitting and transplanting one big bunch I had planted the year before in my inaugural pandemic garden. Here they are again, starting over after making it through another winter.

My tiny backyard garden isn't much, but it means a lot to me. Remember to always look forward to spring and a new chance to start over.