The unexpected holiday visitor
Let me tell you about a nasty little COVID bug.
It crept in slowly, so innocuous at first, I thought perhaps it was just the winter chill getting to me. But by day three, it hit me like a truck. The timing couldn’t have been worse—holidays were upon us, and the doctor’s office was closed. It was a perfect storm, one that highlighted how crucial it is to be prepared for the unexpected.
These times have taught me the value of rudimentary survival skills. Living in the country, where amenities and support aren’t exactly around the corner, preparedness isn’t a luxury; it’s a necessity. Essential prescriptions, cold and flu medications, pain relievers, comfort items and 'sick' foods for both humans and pets should always be stocked. When illness strikes, it’s no time to realize your medicine cabinet is bare.
Freepik photo
Another critical preparation is firewood. In rural living, a reliable source of heat isn’t optional, especially during the harsh winter months. We keep a healthy stockpile of firewood outside, carefully stacked and covered to protect it from snow and rain. But just as important is maintaining a small supply inside for immediate use. When you’re feeling under the weather, the last thing you want is to trudge outside through the snow to fetch logs for the fireplace or wood stove.
As a bit of a health witch, I turned to some natural remedies to speed up recovery.
The very first thing we do is make sure we're supplementing vitamin D. Because in Canada we just can't get enough vitamin D from the sun throughout the winter and this vital nutrient is key to reducing the severity of respiratory infections.
We also make sure to boost vitamin C, whether through supplements or citrus fruits/berries, to support our immune defences.
One of the small rituals that made a big difference was brewing up a healing tonic with black or red currants and honey. I needed something soothing and restorative, and this tea became a source of comfort and support.
I started with 4 cups of frozen black currants—packed with vitamin C and antioxidants, known for their powerful immune-boosting and antiviral benefits. I simmered them in a pot with 4 cups of water, letting the rich, deep colour of the berries infuse the liquid. After about 10 minutes, I strained the tea into my favourite mug and stirred in a teaspoon of raw, local honey, which is not only soothing but also antibacterial. The result was a warm, tangy, slightly sweet elixir. The rest I stored in a mason jar in the fridge for later use.
Another daily ritual was brewing fresh ginger tea with lemon, a pinch of turmeric and a dash of black pepper. This comforting drink is rich in antioxidants, supports digestion, and provided powerful anti-inflammatory benefits to help strengthen your defences against COVID.
One of my go-to solutions was brewing a batch of 24-hour bone broth made from chicken backs or beef bones locally sourced from Nicholyn Farms. Into the crockpot went an onion, turmeric, bay leaf and thyme for flavour and their healing properties. We drank it throughout the day and felt the soothing, nourishing benefits—perfect when solid food just wasn’t an option.
For our dogs, I prepared a double-boil version. After removing the onion, I added more water and boiled the broth for another 24 hours. Many of the chicken bones disintegrated, and I added potatoes, carrots and other fridge leftovers to round out their nutrition. It was a practical and healing ritual that supported us all through the worst of the illness.
Then there was the snow. Oh, the snow! This winter, we’ve seen record snowfall amounts, which added an entirely different layer of challenge. Being snowed in while feeling miserable gave me a new, almost surreal perspective. Somewhere in the haze of my feverish delirium, I felt both vulnerable and oddly resilient. Vulnerable because I couldn’t just run out for help if needed, and resilient because, well, I didn’t have a choice.
Dealing with massive snowfall while battling COVID is a special kind of challenge, especially when you have a half-mile-long driveway. Usually, we’d fire up the trusty Case machine. But this time? Nope. Not happening. Too damn sick.
The snow just kept coming, piling up inch by inch and all I could do was stare out the window, sipping my black currant tea, watching the driveway turned into a winter wilderness fit for a snowshoe expedition.
Being buried in snow while sick was a strange mix of stillness and necessity. The snow piled up outside, and while I felt too weak to take are of myself, there were things I couldn’t ignore—like feeding the birds and walking the dogs.
The birds waited, darting around the feeders in the snow and their quiet persistence nudged me to get up, bundle up and step outside. The dogs, as always, needed their walks, wagging their tails with a sense of urgency that left no room for excuses. It wasn’t for me that I moved, but for them—and yet, it helped.
In those moments, I noticed the stillness that only a snowy day can bring, the air crisp and quiet except for the crunch of my boots. I paused at the driveway, now marked with fresh coyote tracks. It’s become a regular sight in winter, and we’ve even coined the nickname "Coyote Highway." The tracks were a reminder of the wildness around me, a life moving through the landscape even when everything else felt frozen in place.
It was in these small, unexpected moments that I found a kind of healing. Sometimes, it’s in caring for others, even the wild creatures, that we start to care for ourselves.
The snowed-in experience added an almost cerebral take on being unwell. You’re trapped not just physically but mentally, left alone with your thoughts and the isolation of rural life.
It wasn’t all bad, though. I came to appreciate the quiet—the snow muffling every sound, the way the world seemed to hold its breath. It gave me space to reflect on how easily we take our health, our conveniences, and our connections for granted.
This whole experience really brought home how much kindness matters. When you’re sick, the little things hit you the hardest—a neighbour clearing my driveway, a friend dropping off a care package, or even a quick “How are you holding up?” text. Those small acts of thoughtfulness felt huge, reminding me I wasn’t alone, even when I felt isolated.
And then there were my two girls—my dogs, always by my side. They didn’t care that I looked like a mess or barely had the energy to move. They just stayed close, offering quiet comfort in a way only pets can. They helped me get through it, one day at a time.
So, as we venture into the new year, let this be a gentle nudge to prioritize preparedness and nurture connections. Stock your pantry and your heart for the unexpected. And when that inevitable snowstorm—or nasty little COVID bug—comes your way, you’ll be glad you did.
(All photos by Monika Rekola, except where indicated.)
Monika Rekola is a certified landscape designer and horticulturist, passionate about gardening, sustainable living and the great outdoors. Contact her at [email protected].
