I woke up in a funk this morning.  That first cup of coffee didn’t snap me out of it and neither did the puppy chewing on my newly polished toes.  So when I went to the lower forty to lay down my 10 K steps, I decided to develop an attitude of gratitude.  And the first song that came to mind was this one:

When upon life’s billows you are tempest-tossed,

When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,

Count your many blessings, name them one by one,

And it will surprise you what the Lord has done

In counting my blessing, I’ll start with Bill.  When I say “we’re walking,” you might imagine us strolling hand-in-hand in a leisurely, romantic fashion.  Not!  I am tall—six-one.  Bill is more like five-eight.  He’s tall from the butt up, but not from the butt down.  We determined years ago that Mother Nature had left at least six inches off his thighs which means that our strides don’t exactly blend.  We march around the various paths in the garden, meeting up periodically for a wave or a word or two—a dog poop alert, for example.  Mostly we walk with our minds focused on walking, but for sure we are both walking.  At age 75, I can tell you that Bill is doing more walking than at any time in his life.  Does his back hurt?  Yes, but less than it used to.  Much to our surprise walking is HELPING his back.

I know Bill’s focus is on his health right now is as much for me as it is for him, and vice versa.  In other words, walking is a blessing as are our twice weekly visits from our personal trainer.

I’m grateful for kids and grandkids who come over to swim and have fun.  I’m glad to have a home where they know they’re welcome.

I’m glad to have puppies in our lives.  When Bella and Jojo finally get too bored with our walking in endless circles without actually going anywhere, they take off and play tag.  It turns out Jojo can run backwards in a circle faster than Bella can run full-tilt forward.  Watching them play is fun.

This year we’ve spent two hours a day in the garden, and we’ve enjoyed it in a way we just never did sitting on the porch.

My walking route takes me around the fishpond and over the fishpond bridge. I’ve really enjoyed seeing the fish more and being blasted by the heron blaster less, because it turns out we don’t have any heron blasters this year.  We don’t need them.  For Mother’s Day, my daughter and grandson gave me a high-powered Nerf gun that shoots whistling bullets.  Shortly thereafter, Mr. Heron arrived on the scene.  I shot one of my whistling bullets over the top of the pool house and managed to land it on the same patch of grass where Mr. Heron happened to be sitting.  He hasn’t been back, and the fish are thriving, including our wily ‘Big Guy’ who is turning five this summer.  When I’m counting my blessings, I need to remember to count that Nerf gun.

I’ve enjoyed watching the flowers come and go.  When the wisteria first bloomed last spring, it was lavender on bare branches.  It’s blooming again right now, but only a few lavender blooms on lush green branches. The hydrangea has faded away now, but there are masses of black-eyed-susans lining the top of the driveway.  I loved how the red blooms of the crocosina draped over the rocks surrounding the fish ponds and reflected back on the water.  And the new growth on the photinia is bright red and reaching for the sky.  Dahlias are coming on, big ones and little ones, and the newly planted hosta are losing their blooms, too, but not their variegated green leaves.

There’s one clump of daisies growing by one of the verse-inscribed boulders.  There are only a few left on it now, but I always gave bouquets of daisies to my mother on Mother’s Day.  So when I march past that corner of the yard.  I think of her.  Evie Busk was and is, of course, one of the major blessings in my life.

And now, having walked and counted my blessings, it’s time to boot the puppy off my shoulder and go fix breakfast.  Yes, this has definitely been a time to count my blessings.

And I think I’m feeling better.