Spring is a long time coming. The snow is dingy, the relatives are finicky, and the ice is beginning to break. The only suds to be seen are those at the carwash. All others are just figments of imagination for a time far in the future. Yep, it is a bad case of cabin fever.
There is only so much excitement that can be had over the latest copy of Seeds and Plants. The golfing shows bring little more than heartache for warmer times and the fishing is iffy. It’s too late for winter and too early for spring. It begins with a niggling little itch down in the middle of the back. It is one of those annoyances that is present and can not be ignored.
It is a mild itch that with a brief thought, yawn, stretch and scratch is soon gone. Soon it returns. It grows. Like a big old bruin, one finds a tree to be of some relief. Lean against the bark and gyrate against the trunk. It works for most bear, but not for the back. It is too early to burn the underwear and too early to skip and skedaddle over the hill. One wishes to become a spider so that all the spots that itch can be scratched at once.
Nature, of course, is smirking at all this. With a wink and a nod, another snowstorm, ice storm or big blowout comes to the neighborhood and it’s back to shoveling white stuff, pouring washer fluid into the car and moaning about the dirt that covers everything.
Thoughts turn to murder and mayhem as one thinks of alternative uses for icicles and in-laws. A coating of ice greets the parking lot and learning about the laws of physics through experience keeps the emergency room busy. Add in a nice case of flu, cold, sniffles and itch and the world seems like a fearsome place.
Parents wonder why their grandparents had kids, and kids wonder why they are plagued with this bunch of relatives who cannot find their way to the mall without a map. Cranks abound and much of their talk is of a scandalous nature. The priest is muttering a few imprecations under the words of the sermon and wondering if there is a higher calling if curses are said. One cannot go out, nor stay in. And the itch grows. By now one looks like a lobster fresh from the pot and has a temper to boot.
It is not winter and it is not spring. Welcome to cabin fever time.
Enjoy the season. Soon old geezers will be racing lawnmowers down the street. Old maids will be laying traps for the next new boy toy in the neighborhood, and plants will be sticking their heads out of the ground. It just can’t get here soon enough.
Orpheus Allison is a photojournalist living in The County who graduated from UMPI and earned a master of liberal arts degree from the University of North Carolina. He began his journalism career at WAGM television later working in many different areas of the US. After 20 years of television he changed careers and taught in China and Korea.
