Today’s the first day of meteorological spring in the northern hemisphere, and perhaps not coincidentally, yesterday was Tibetan New Year, the Year of the Wood Snake. At Mirador, no snakes yet, but spring is popping in the garden.

Wren, Topaz and I ventured through the woods a couple of times this week despite the mud, and enjoyed breathing the fresh spring air. Wren’s nose enjoyed it the most, as there were many enticing scents on the breeze. I enjoyed it because an unexpected side effect of the hip surgery seems to be that my breathing is easier than it’s been in years. It makes sense, with the pain and constriction relieved, that my breath flows more freely.

Tiny cabbages took only five days to sprout and their first set of true leaves are now budding. The onions took a few days longer, and just yesterday the fennel seeds finally sprouted. The garden roller coaster begins its slow, winding climb upward.

I baked a nearly perfect coffee cake Thursday. You know what that means. I’ll have to try again in order to perfect it. It’s been a busy week, between work and the resistance and a couple of appointments. One was to an allergist in the city, and I left extra early because of construction on the highway. Because I didn’t relish the prospect of being away all day, I set my intention to PBS (Pause, Breathe, Smile, whether you need to or not). It was easy: I listened to ‘Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me’ the first half of the drive up there so I was laughing most of the way. I gave oncoming cars and the flag persons big smiles and happy waves. It felt great. I relaxed and enjoyed the gorgeous day, and kept afflictive thoughts at bay.

No one on the road could see that I wore my ‘Drag is Not a Crime’ ball cap, but the nurse who marked me up for allergy testing saw it and said “I like your hat!” This opened the door for a heartwarming conversation in which she said something that really touched me, “You’re safe here.”

Safe politically, maybe, but then she proceeded to stab me fifty-seven times! She was so sweet. She said, “Let me know if you need a break,” as each pinprick stung down the first side, “but I’m pretty fast.” She was. She got them all done in less than five breaths. I was grateful for the skill of mindful breathing, relaxing my body and breath, inhaling slowly, exhaling slower, and bringing curiosity to the sensations rather than resistance.

After a short fifteen minute wait, a different nurse came in to read my back, and I was mightily surprised to learn that I’m not allergic to any of the fifty-four common allergens they tested for. On the top left, marked H for Histamine, is the welt that indicates the tests are working, and below that a C for Control. While some of the pricks look more annoyed than others they all rated the same small measurement indicating no significant reaction. This was great news on the one hand because I’m not allergic to cats, dogs, sagebrush, or juniper, but perplexing on the other hand, because I still don’t know what’s causing allergy symptoms. Oh well. Probably nothing that’s gonna kill me.

As I was leaving, the sweet young nurse said, “I hope you’re okay.” I knew she didn’t mean my allergies. We picked up our political conversation, and she said she and her husband are trying to do things but it doesn’t feel like much. I told her, “Everyone who is doing anything needs to do a little bit more, and everyone who isn’t doing anything needs to do something. We’ll get through this.” I recommended Indivisible.org to her, and told her I’d email her a few more helpful links. I gave her a spontaneous hug and she said, “I needed that.” I’m grateful that my Drag hat sparked a meaningful encounter and an opportunity to spread the resistance. I bought the hat years ago from ACLU, where there’s plenty of provocative merchandise that supports their great work. Wearing something even as subtle as a Drag hat is a great way to connect, and grow the resistance one conversation at a time. Just as we keep growing ourselves, one breath at a time.