Yesterday, tucked in the back flowerbed, was the first daffodil. They’ve been blooming in town for at least a week, but out where we are, it takes longer for spring to take hold.

Then last night, Bob mowed for the first time this year, and the drone of the mower outside as Babby slept in my arms, punctuated by wafts of freshly-cut grass filling my nose, made me feel yellow and happy and thankful.
I look at the miracle of my life, and I have to say thanks. Who am I, that these small trusting innocents are placed in my care? What have I done to deserve the love of this man? Why don’t I thank God more for the bounty around me?