At the end of the day

At the end of the day the white on the hostas jumps up at me.

The iris say hello to the barn,

and the dogwood makes me think of a child at her parents feet.

At the end of the day I am tired and I think back to the whirlwind that comes with Spring.

The weekend was packed and seemed brief, my body finally settling into a chair and slowing to a reasonable pace. Saturday morning began early with baseball pictures, a game and opening day ceremonies. I had a farmers market meeting (can't believe it starts so soon!) and the rest of the day was a blur with cousins and whiffle ball games and tractor rides and chickschickschicks, dinner and the final collapse. I awoke early again only to work at the hospital all day, happy to come home, immensely grateful for my health and starkly reminded that these are the greatest of times, paving the road of our future as a family.