When I woke my eyes opened to the window around 6 am and the sight of a true blue cloudless sky. A sun shining morning. I knew the woods would still be muddy and wore my boots. I am finding so much inner quiet and peace and patience and focus in the woods these past few days. The first thing I noticed was the sun doing its job, making a shadow of the fern on the rock. Then I walked to the place on the trail where every year a generous cluster of lily of the valley bloom in May. I saw less than a handful of flower stems sprouting from the bright green leaves. In a few days, their perfume will fill the air as I pass. This time on my walk, breathing and looking at all the beauty of the plants with the sun beaming down on the meadow inspired me to return home to a busy day. Preparing for my husband’s surgery tomorrow. The IWWG writing conference I’ve been organizing for months needs to be outlined step by step for others to help. I’m grateful to all the wonderful colleagues and friends stepping in. I am trusting all will be well. And I’m hoping to be there still. All the unknowns, now that I have created backup plans for help, feel manageable. In the late afternoon, my husband, finished with the conference he was leading in Kansas City long distance, and I walked around the yard, across the field, to the river where we imagined the wedding we’ll hold there in the fall for my daughter. We pictured the Charles shrunk back to its normal banks and the trees covered in leaves and all the clean up we still need to accomplish, the plants we want to plant and the saplings we want to transplant. We dreamed of the summer months ahead with time and energy to create a special celebration. We have, in fact, two weddings to create here, I think. A fall one. A spring one. Across the river we spotted a bird, a large one, a goose? A pheasant? A duck? We couldn’t place it at all. it was lovely from a distance. We wanted to meet it and know its name. We headed home, spotted a snake in the sunshine. We felt grateful for every blessing in our lives. The next time I walk here the lady slippers and lily of the valley will be in bloom.