Home Alone

My family is all gone, and it is so quiet in my house I can hear the dog snoring from across the room. I can't remember the last time it was this quiet around here.

At sunrise, however, the hillside was noisy with bird song, and one set of geese came so low I thought they just might fly in the window. A strange cat is visiting the hill, and the flowers are making their dramatic entrance as well. It is Spring in all its glory.

Having waited ten years for the wisteria to bloom, I cannot tell you what a thrill it is to see all the purple buds ready to pop. Wisteria is the picture of hope fulfilled.

When I see the first daffodils of spring I always think of the bulbs my sister planted in our sandbox growing up; they came up faithfully every year. Forget-Me-Nots remind me of my friend Jan, lilies remind me of Heather, daisies remind me of You've Got Mail ("Don't you think daisies are the friendliest flower?")

But when the iris starts blooming in the front flower boxes, I always think of my Half Moon Bay friend Alison. She's my friend who loves color and books and family and gratitude, and she knew me back when and is still my friend. I'm grateful for you today, Alison!

I don't think I realized how much I needed some quiet. I love my noisy family, I love our activities and our routines, but an empty house with a snoring dog is just what the doctor ordered today. Thanks, Lord!