Coming back to the world.

I’ve been sick.

It’s been a weird kind of illness–no sneezing, very little coughing, but four or five days of laying in bed, sweating and freezing, and now a week later and I still have far less stamina than I did.  My legs get very cold, very easily.  Every day I can go a little longer, but Chris comes home at the end of the day and asks how I am and all I can say is, “I’m tired.”

But oh, I feel pretty well at the beginning of the day. I’m almost back to my 6:30 wake up, and over the last few weeks as I’ve worked on quilts I’ve been doing so in the front room (the library-playroom) on the worn-out little sofa in front of the big east-facing window. It’s San Diego, so as such we don’t as a rule have Weather;  but still, it’s been nice, looking out that east-facing window, at the sky so grey and cloud-covered that you’d think (if you weren’t used to it) that there must be rain coming. And the birds are so excited that it is spring, so I sit and listen to them chatter as I pull stitches through. Occasionally we get a hummingbird with a brilliant red throat come and sit on one of the willow branches outside the window. Then the sun comes up behind the grey sky cover, and warm fuzzy patches develop like wool has been overlaid on the sky, and suddenly the sun is up and there are runners and people with dogs and cars beginning the trek to Sorrento Valley.  I feel like a spy then, curled up under the half-finished quilt, watching.


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