I hope to soon report the completion of the remodel of my house, but my hopefulness is not what drives the work being done by the carpenters. They have taken great care and pain to resurrect the life of this 70-year old cottage. The disruption in our lives has been worth the wait, now that we see refurbished oak flooring, a more efficient gas fireplace mounted in the wall, double-paned windows and skylights, and, most recently, new furniture to replace a few obsolete and lifeless hand-me-downs. I spend more time in or near this modest house than I probably should, but it is slightly removed from town and is near a forest reserve. Now I have more reasons to remain close. I often do not feel like running about, leaving the tranquility of the nearby forest, unless my travel is motivated by hunger.

Even my approach to food is changing. The new kitchen my brother-in-law helped me piece together over many laborious weekends is such a joy in which to cook. It may be what caused the misses and me to rethink how we eat. We have this lofty idea that by turning from the practice of eating nearly anything to eating only whole food, plant-based dishes, we will regain some of the youth and vigor that has gradually slipped away without our consent.

Spring, the season of making over the earth, has come to us in the form of these innovations with house and health. The longer I live the more difficulty I have in even thinking of making change. When I take regards for the way of nature, she seems to want to slowly wear me down, diminish all my capacities, and point me toward the ultimate destiny. If I can introduce an abrupt halt and detour in her plans, I become filled with the airiness and delight that I experience when Californa poppies make their early season display.

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