“One thing is certain, and I have always known it—the joys of my life have nothing to do with age.
They do not change. Flowers, the morning and evening light, music, poetry, silence, the goldfinches darting about …”

― May Sarton, At Seventy: A Journal

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We are back door people, so imagine my joy when I discover the hellebore blooms under last year’s foliage out front. I immediately drop to my knees and gently tug on the dead leaves, pulling them out of the ground making way for the deep pink of the flower. I do a bit of cleanup around the plants, reveling more blooms getting ready to emerge from the soil. Later in the day, as the sun pours through sliding doors, I find Baker asleep, basking in warm rays. I remind myself that the earth does not sleep, and it is up to me to watch for signs and get the plants ready for warmer weather. I head into the garage and gather my tools from where they were dropped last fall. I bring some inside to clean up and place the others in my garden basket. After all, I want to be ready when she lets me know the time is right.