FLOURISHING

 While Cia’s flowers are thoroughly flourishing these days, I feel like I’m doing some flourishing myself. The word comes from the Latin flos, meaning “flower”, and in some ways my life seems to be flowering fairly profusely in these days of my 70’s. My skin may be sagging somewhat, and my days of speedy, hours-long cycling may be over, but something keeps springing up inside me, sort of the way bulbs rise up into blossoms. Call it eagerness, or spirit, or zeal, or sparkle – whatever it is, it seems stronger than ever now that my face is furrowed with 74 years. I haven’t run anywhere in years, but spirited thoughts sometimes run riot inside me, like the phlox that float luxuriously in her garden. My money doesn’t multiply every day, but my fervent feelings definitely do – feelings that make this old life feel like the young and plentiful garden it actually is.