Out in the garden, out in the yard, out in the everywhere things are growing. A sunflower sprang up from a seed left behind in a big pot by the side gate. A single black-eyed susan returned beneath a lacy oak. A bit of silver pony foot escaped another pot to take root by the big oaks. There’s a lemon bee-balm by the deck and by the steps to the same deck there’s a cluster of Indian blankets with several winecups embedded. They all occupy tiny bits of ground except in my mind where they come together for a group picture.

That’s the pleasure of having enough space to let things grow as they will along with the plants growing as you want. As you walk around you discover things, they surprise you, they make you happy. You wonder how they got there. Did they come on the wind? Did they walk with an animal? Maybe a bird flew in. Who knows? Who really cares? I like the surprise. Like a white bluebonnet or an all-yellow Indian blanket. You remember them. Little bits of natural magic, a perfect note, a just right color, a pleasant word.

Yesterday evening as I floated in my little pool at sundown, I watched the barn swallows that call my place home cavort over the wildflowers. They were feasting on whatever insects live among those flowers, and they dipped down occasionally to scoop a drink from the water around me, knowing I wouldn’t much mind. I suspect we were all happy as clams, although I have no idea what might make a clam happy. All I know is, I felt pretty good floating in the warm water, watching the clouds slide by, thinking of pretty things, and feeling a little blessed.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale