Once again, it’s the small things. Went on a tour of the yard yesterday with my son, the arborist, and discovered the Mexican Buckeyes are blooming. Delicate little flowers, and another spring joy to anticipate as the trees age into maturity and gain their crowns. And to think they all started as seeds he gathered patiently on his travels around central Texas tending trees. Cool.

It rained last night. No telling how much. I’ve yet to replace my rain gauges. For now, I just look at the driveway and notice that it’s wet, and sometimes I get wet which is the truest way to know it’s raining along with looking out the window and seeing it fall. I’m glad I mowed yesterday. The yard looks tidy and now it’s getting a drink.

The symphony of spring is well underway with its warm breezes, soft leaves, rains, and flowers. For the next two or three months there will always be something to anticipate, to revel in, to glory over, to celebrate. I like it. Little crescendos and riffs and trills. And I’ll be out in it, tending my little flower orchestra, encouraging it along, nipping and tucking here and there. Being patient, being kind, being thankful. Just being. In the garden. With the flowers. Who always lift me up.

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