We sat on the part of the back porch that wasn’t in shadow, the slates still being warmed by the sun. I moved Flo’s bowl of cat food to one side of my outstretched legs and Minnie’s to the other.
The cats crunched on kibble as the hens hopped up on the porch edging closer and closer. All I had to do was lift a hand to shoo them away.
But I soon gave in and reached into Flo’s bowl for a few pieces of kibble to toss to the hens. Their beaks made a sharp sound as they plucked the food from the slate.
A quiet peace settled in my body. Right now, I thought, I am fine.
Minnie pushed her head into my hand and I scratched just below her ear. The place she can no longer reach since she lost her leg. I pulled a tick off of her and she went back to eating.
The three mini daffodils in the backporch garden that survived two snows are still bight yellow, faces to the sun.
The Grape Hyacinth came after the snow.
When I see them I think of walking home from Kindergarten towards the end of the school year. A miniature forest of Grape Hyacinth grew in the side yard of one of the houses I passed and I would pick a bouquet of the small flowers for my mother. Sometimes I mixed them with dandelions, the purple and yellow brilliant together.
I can still picture them in the small glass of water on the kitchen window.
I only have a few Grape Hyacinth in my garden, but I imagine them spreading over the years, and maybe, when I’m no longer here, they’ll fill the whole garden, like a miniature purple forest.