Tonight, as I prepare to sleep and wake into a morning of a day that will bring, as all days bring, an outcome unknown, I reflect on the promising tiny zesty loveliness of the anemones populating the woods and the hooray surprise of finding a first jack-in-the-pulpit under its green striped hood and the perfume of the first bloomed bed of wild lily of the valley and the stillness of the frog just under the surface of the morning brook, blue in the reflection of the unclouded sky. Tonight, as I prepare to sleep and wake into a morning of a day that will bring an outcome unknown, as all days do, I am so full of gratitude for healing, and how it happens in its own way in its own time, and at the river’s edge today, I knew, at the very soles of my feet on the mud that all will be well.