040905morning.jpgThe view outside our guest bedroom window on a Spring morning in April. No, Amy didn’t banish me to the guest bedroom. I was looking for something in the closet when the sudden explosion of green caught my eye. It wasn’t that green a day ago. So I retreived a camera from the den and snapped a grab shot through the window.

Haven’t had much time to enjoy Spring. Still on the downside of my third (yes, third) bout with cold and/or flu bug of the season. Seems like both of us have been on just this side of walking pneumonia since we started the migration from our condo in Arlington to our new home here in Floyd at the end of November of last year.

The human body generally rebels when it thinks it’s time to slow down. You become a target of any virus that wonders down the pike. Amy and I were both worn out from the hectic months of packing up the home in Arlington, which came just a few months after packing up her mother’s home in Illinois, which also happened to be in the middle of a Presidential election year — the busiest possible time in what was then my line of work.

So we arrived in Floyd worn out — physically, mentally and emotionally. But rather than take a breather we plunged right into getting a new home ready while I also took on a nonstop schedule at the studio. Then the cycle started. She would get sick, pass it on to me so I could pass it back to her and she, in turn, could pass it back to me.

We hit the wall this week. Neither of us could get out of bed. I stayed away from the studio. She stayed away from the mountain of boxes in the garage. Four weeks ago, I taught the first of my photo classes in a decongestant-induced haze. Tuesday of this week, I taught the last of the current session, again in a feverish haze. I hope the students learned something. I can’t for the life of me, recall what I told them. The rest of the week is equally blurred.

Hopefully, the respite helped. A busy weekend awaits. Today, I pick up my cameras and shoot a track meet for The Floyd Press. Tomorrow we head to Martinsville and the Advance Auto Parts 500.

Now. Just where did the “I’m moving to the country to take it easy” plan go wrong?