I was lucky to find myself in Arizona last week while Nashville – and the Midwest – shivered. I felt guilty about it. Shouldn’t I be suffering along with my friends, my family, my dog? That lasted for a minute and then I got over it.

If you have the chance to go to Arizona in January or February, take it.

A new geography wakes up your eyes. Rock gardens nurture cacti and green-barked trees. The thirst of water-starved plants yields – beauty. Strength. Resilience.

You might find yourself figuring out a group dynamic, knowing at age 50 that you can say no to some things and yes to others. You might be willing to offer some silly ideas in a salsa and margarita-making contest. You might be able to say no, I’m not brave enough for that double diamond hike.

You might find yourself on a party bus, a real party bus, for the first time in a while.

You might find yourself blessed by a hummingbird.

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A Hummingbird in Winter: A Poem for Children

 

A hummingbird in winter
Beats its tiny, tiny wings,
A hummingbird in winter
Silly sings, silly sings:

Hummy buzzy, hummy buzzy
Ring a ling, ring a ling
Hummy buzzy, hummy buzzy
Twinkle zing, twinkle zing!

A hummingbird in winter
Means just one important thing:
You and hummy found the sun –

You can sing, swing, sing!

 

*      *      *

Gus Puryear and Jim Flautt, Feeling all the feels

 

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