Being in the moment takes extra effort at times. It’s after a school day in early May when my students can feel the end of the year, and I feel like I’ve given double the effort to keep them interested in our lessons. I should be fixing dinner, but instead I’m sitting here this evening writing while sipping some cab sav on my green metal glider with a starving-for-attention cat, Mocha, rubbing against my bare feet. It rained, but now the sun is out for a brief time before it sets. There is a cacophony of bird songs, and it reminds me of the quote by Rose Kennedy, “Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever sunlight remains to them?” Everything is greening and lushing up and bringing hope and life and growth. I can count the peony buds.

Tonight I am grateful for the springs in my life (and for the few dandelions that I can see Tony missed mowing, so the grandkids can make wishes.)