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