This is the season for sickness. The 60 degree days betray us when they are followed by negative temperatures. Our bodies go into shock. The virus spreads from person to person. In isolation, the spread does not have this affect. But since us country folk are not use to being sick, we have less immunities and get sick easier when exposed. Here, in the city, we are canaries in the coal mine.
For the past 48 hours I have felt the claws of a virus, crawling down my throat, ripping away at my lungs, and tickling my muscles. I am hot and cold all at once, shivering and sweating under blankets. My son feels the same. He curls up with me and groans softly. We can't eat so we try to keep liquids flowing in. We don't want to move, so we sleep. Dreaming that such illness will pass and we will soon be whole again.
- Roslyn Imrie
- I am a mother, a teacher, and a nature lover. I grew up on a mountain we called Owls' Knob in the Ozarks of Arkansas. The first seven years of my life were spent living in a log cabin, far from a store or streetlight, without electricity or running water and after twenty years of travel, I returned to the abondoned homestead. Now I live on a hill by a small lake and work at a public garden. These are stories about nature written from a women deeply influenced by place.