Everyone breathed easier at the first signs of spring. Especially old Joe Brown. Being ninety-two and pretty much a hermit, it was his saving grace. Joe was basically holed up in his tiny cottage for the length of winter and when birds started to sing and the sun lasted more than a few hours, he felt rejuvenated.
It was always this way, ever since his Bessie passed over. At least he thought she passed over, but on occasion, he would hear her fixing breakfast in the wee hours of the morning. Of course he always rose out of bed then as quick as his limbs were capable, checking to see if she was really there. A soft breeze would caress his cheek, but he never saw her. Even with only the soft touch he was joyful and remained so for the day.
Gathering his wooly sweater and twisted oak cane, Joe walked out to the porch. Yes, he could smell it in the air. Spring was coming! He plodded over to the remnants of Bessie’s garden to see a few crocuses starting up. Thank you Bessie, he thought to himself, I can always count on you.