Stories are life. Read some, write some, be some.
Not that I'm old! I'm not very old. But my back and my knees are old, and my get up and go got up and went. Inside, I'm still 17.
But spring is going to come again, I know it by the calendar, and the lengthening of days. I know it by the sunshine that heats up the area by the patio door, even though when I open that door and step outisde to enjoy the sunshine, I still wish for at least a sweater. There was snow on the ground again this morning. But spring will come.
And yesterday I did the thing that I sometimes do in the spring--I ordered seeds.