“The trees are budding their new leaves and a thought comes into my head. They have a kind of rhythm in their upright trunks and their branches that start thick and then divide and get narrower and lighter and faster till they quiver in the air like breath past a clarionet reed. That is a rhythm you can see, not hear. Perhaps music happens elsewhere than in ears.”

— Anna Smaill

The older I get the more comfort I find in the rhythm of the seasons. And while the seasons have changed, summers bringing more heat, winter more snow, they are dependable. The rhythm of my daily life has changed often over the course of my 68 years. Each life season bringing new discoveries, new responsibilities, and things to focus on, along with heartache and joy. The vastness of living each day, the privilege of it really, is such a gift. One that can so easily be overlooked in the chaos of life. I walk into spring this year with less baggage to unpack. Arriving with some open spaciousness to explore and fill with what I want. It is a rhythm that I am still learning to listen to.