The wood thrush and the eastern gray catbird have added their songs to my dawn chorus. From every direction, birdsong. Rain comes down to soak the thirsty earth, quickening the seeds I’ve planted in the garden. Droplets quiver on the petals of every opening flower, and bewitching sweetness fills the air on every side: hyacinth, crabapple, lilac. I’m out walking again, drinking green tea and tea brewed from garden herbs, eating salads. Blood rushes through my veins, air into my lungs, energy into my limbs. Life renewed.