Summer time, air conditioners running... People sweating, and humidity's high... To the tune, you know.

We have a deep well, and though the ground is very dry we're not really low on rainfall amounts, so I am watering the impatiens. Not many plants that flower all summer do well in our woods. Deer eat the hosta, even when I spray them. The tuberous begonias that my farmer-neighbor-friend-salesman promised would grow and bloom all summer in full shade, those bright red, charming, showy begonias are short of blooms-- there is one on three plants. The impatiens, though, contribute their sunny faces every day, setting new blossoms, opening and smiling, falling gracefully and returning to soil, always blooming.

Yesterday I kept my date with the cardiologist, the date set up six months ago, right after Christmas. I knew the scale would tell the truth of my past week of overeating, so I considered "reasons." It occurred to me it could be the weight of my hair. Yes, hair can be quite heavy. And mine is about two inches long all over my head. Well, shorter than that at the edges. When that thought came to mind I chuckled aloud, and quit my worrying. I shared my idea with the nurse and she laughed too, and as she stickied me up for my electrocardiogram we had a fine little chat about her life and mine.

When the doctor came, he commented that my blood pressure was lower and my pulse higher than he'd seen them ever before in his office. Both good things, for my bp is usually high at the doctors-- white coat syndrome-- and my pulse falls to alarmingly slow rates. And then he looked back in the chart in his hands and said, "And I see you've lost a couple pounds since last time. Ummm, good." Oh, giggle. It was right after Christmas.

He looked at me, really looked, and did not ask if I exercise. He simply switched to talking about the benefits of exercise and healthy diet, encouraging me to keep caring for myself, for I can do for myself what no doctor can possibly do for me. 'Tis true that I appear to be in blooming good health: normal weight, normally shaped by exercise, lightly tanned, some rosy color in my cheeks, smile wrinkles showing, groomed. I'll take it.

"So, I can come see you again in a year this time?" I said. It's been a routine six months between visits. His gaze suddenly became fierce and hawk-serious. "All right. But you must call me if you need me. You must promise to call me if you need me. If you have any of these symptoms, you will call me," and he went through a sort of scary list. "Promise," he insisted.

I agreed. Of course.

I find myself quite in tune with the impatiens. Here in my home woods, day by day I seek to contribute a sunny face, setting new blossoms in the form of specific small actions to contribute to the welfare of those whom I may touch, seeking to be open and smiling, allowing specific small things to fall away gracefully. It is my hope that I may be always blooming until the end of my season.