carpet of trout lilies

What we all need is some of that strong spring sunlight.
Instead we have what my dear friend Bob calls “a cold bitch of an east wind”.

Cold, uncaring bitch, freezing the blossoms off the cherry trees, the petals off the daffodils.

I’d rather be under six blankets in front of a roaring fire than trying to move these frozen fingers.

Feeling frail, frankly.

Fragile.

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