I guess it would be more accurate to say, that I had to drag myself, kicking and screaming in coming to terms with turning 60 today. But as I sat in my garden with morning coffee, contemplating my "new age", witnessing golden finches snatching the best bits of seed from spent cone-flowers and minute flickering hummingbirds flitting this way and that, I became filled with peace. The October garden silently bursts with Shasta daisies, Russian sage and the fading purple blooms of Hyssop. Bees still contentedly hum and the last of the butterflies linger amid the dwindling petals of pink phlox. I inhaled the October air and felt the sweet comfort of my precious garden as it settles into it's next phase of being. I feel a bit like my garden, my prime season is past but I am consoled with the thought that as life continues and priorities change, I can be comfortable with myself; silvering hair, crows-feet and all the maladies that seem to go hand in hand with aging. The more I think on it, the more I rather like the idea of being 60. It is a good number. . (These birdies in the garden are from a painted papercutting I just finished last week. )