It’s spring, nearly Mother’s Day, and my grandma — my mother’s mother — her hair is blooming all glorious white, right along with the magnolia trees.
Dear Heaven, I give thanks to thee
For things I did not know before,
For the wisdom of maturity,
For bread, and a roof, and for one thing more,
Thanks because I still can see
The bloom on the white magnolia tree!
-from a poem by Helen Deutsch