It’s different from the holidays, like Thanksgiving and Christmas, when families are gathering at home and the winter weather keeps them inside. Then there are lights inside and outside the houses, and you get the feeling people are sitting around a dining table groaning under the weight of a feast laid out there, featuring a turkey or some other large bird, resembling a scene from a Charles Dickens novel. “A Christmas Carol.”

This is not what it’s like around here now.

No, these days the feeling you get from the quiet of the town is eerie, more like a Margaret Atwood novel. “The Handmaid’s Tale.” the Christmas lights generally come down around Eastertime here, and, even though I’m pretty sure the inhabitants are at home, it doesn’t look that way.

Someone told me that when he and his wife go out to walk the dog he looks around and thinks, “Did the Rapture happen? Why wasn’t I taken? I tried to be good. I guess it didn’t work out.”

When you do see people, they tend to look a little scruffy, unshaved and unshorn and often masked.

A few days ago, the sun came out, and what a difference! People were outside enjoying the spring weather. We yelled back and forth to each other joyfully, observing the physical distancing directive but gladly discarding social distancing. I wondered whether this will stick, and we will get into the habit of raising our voices whenever we converse, even when we can crowd together again.

My friend Mark, who owns a bike shop, said it was such a beautiful day he decided to skip out of work for a while. Bike shops are essential, like grocery stores and post offices and liquor stores. All of us nonessential workers are out of work.

It seems that people are not generally accomplishing all of the things we imagined we would be doing if we had more spare time at home, from housecleaning to creating great works of art. Some are home-schooling their children, and I have heard defiant remarks about common core math, like “I don’t care, I can’t teach common core, these kids are gonna have to learn to carry the one!”

People have told me that they are dreaming more, and remembering their dreams, which is unusual for them. Lately my dreams are getting creepier. It’s as if during the day I just go about my homey tasks, but at night my subconscious reaction to the deadly and mysterious novel coronavirus reveals itself in restless sleep and nightmares.

People wonder: Am I imagining I have covid-19 symptoms? Or have I had covid-19 asymptomatically?

New York State Route 73 runs right past my front door. It’s the most direct way to get from the Northway to Lake Placid, and during normal times it’s a relatively busy road, even during mud season. Not now.

Yesterday I realized that my gas tank was nearly empty. It had been more than a month since I’d been to the gas station. I drove to Keene, filled my car up at Stewart’s, looked at the price on the pump and burst out laughing.

Last week the price of crude was below $0, for the first time in history. Because of Covid-19 restrictions, demand for gasoline is at an all-time global low. At Stewart’s in Keene, gasoline was about $2.10 a gallon, and in some parts of the country gas was selling for $.88 a gallon.

I have also learned that dairy farmers have been dumping milk that they can’t sell because restaurants and schools are closed due to Covid-19 safety restrictions. Literally pouring good milk down the drain, as I once complained I was doing when my daughter and her little friends didn’t drink their milk at dinner.

“Why don’t I go buy a gallon of milk and pour it right in the sink?” I recall asking. “Better yet, why don’t I just take my money and throw it right out the window?” The children just looked blankly up at me and went on with their conversation. Mothers are crazy.

Some of the dairy farmers used their surplus milk to make cheese. I guess I never thought of that.

Stay safe and have a good week.