It’s my birthday. Anti-climatic, since last year was one of those end-in-a-zero years. (I’m realizing I don’t mind anti-climatic every now and again.) Anyway, not only was the birthday anti-climatic, but it’s on a Wednesday. And I found myself at a conference. In Dallas. I mean, a really really great conference full of really really great librarians but still. You know what I mean.

And yet, it all feels fine and right. Here I am, 51, in the middle of an ordinary week in April, one daughter out of the nest, another teetering on the edge, my husband making sure the dog gets walked and he gets new brakes in his truck. And I’m at a conference talking to librarians about my most recent books about trees. Yes, more than one book about trees. I could write a hundred books about trees. I know, that would be overkill. So instead, how about a haiku? You’ll humor me, since it’s my birthday. I know you will…

Cypress throwing roots
like straws or steadfast embrace
like ropes for rescue