A Case of the Slights

We are deep into the transition from winter to spring, the time of year I call "the womb of the world." The overarching theme here is wet. The crust on top of the snow is soft and crystallized. If you step on bare ground, the action is accompanied by a squishy sound. After a half dozen snowballs thrown for Goldie, you could wring water out of my gloves.

Yep, wet.

I hear whispers of spring from my cousin in Virginia who reports greenery stretching up from the earth. My sister on Cape Cod espied the tops of a few bulbs popping up in the garden closest to her house.

Me? I can't see my mailbox from the house because the snowbank on the corner of the driveway is still taller than I am.

All of this change puts the virus world on high alert. There are flus and colds that need to be freed to plague the human world. Which is why I think I have a case of the slights—a slight sore throat, slight achiness, slight headache, and fatigue that saps my enthusiasm for much.

I am hoping the flu shot I got back in the fall gave me some sort of blanket protection. I'm not good at being sick. So I'm down in the quilt studio playing with fabric with at least three—no, make that four—design ideas dancing in my head. Not sure which one will win but I am so not giving into a case of the slights. I may go to bed early but I am not giving in.

Do you hear that virus?!? Ha, another cup of ginger tea and an orange in your face!