The peepers are here... those adorable little frogs that inhabit the wooded area around my neighbor's pond. They announce themselves with their nocturnal chorus (which often spills into the daytime but is dimmed or hushed by the busy rush of life).  They came out around Passover but what with the snowstorm and my (joyous!) demands of kitchen and guests, I think I missed their debut chorus. Still, they have serenaded us in our comings and going for over a week now.

The daffodils are coming out in earnest, too. Uncertain at first, with their heads bowed like shy children, they are now upright and sturdy, certain of their place in spring's parade.

The house is full of lovely smells from all the flowers adorning various surfaces.

And today I turn 60.

One of these things will never happen again. Life is funny that way.

Sixty is such a big number. (I hope to see many bigger numbers in my life, but for now, this seems Very Big.) While other round numbers bring us their own share of growth, sixty reminds me that death is no longer a rumor; not something that just happens to other people. It is the visitor that is biding its time, waiting for the right time to knock.

But this realization is more jubilant than depressing. It is like the boost one feels after recovering from an illness, the joyous celebration of energy and renewal. There is an increased clarification of what is important and what is not; what to fight for and what to let go; and how to spend the precious time that remains and what truly makes life worthwhile.

I was hoisted over this birthday threshold by a bundle of friends and family, some older, many younger, who offered me gifts of wisdom and camaraderie. At this moment in time, I leaned on them.

For after all, in Hebrew, the number 60 is represented by the letter samech, which looks very much like an O with a short ponytail on the upper left. It is a circle with a flourish; something complete on its own that yet reaches beyond itself.

Even more, the root of the word samech means to rely on, lean on, support. (A rabbi is called musmach, one who both relies on the divine and Jewish tradition for their wisdom and authority, and whom others rely on for learning and spiritual guidance.)

Who better to rely and lean on at times of transition than our friends and loved ones? And with their support, I will be someone, a friend and musmach, whom others can continue to lean and rely on.

And lest we forget, the classic Jewish blessing we give at someone's birthday is "Til 120!" (the age of Moses when he died). On that scale, I am but half-way through.

Which is good, because there is still so much to do to help heal this needy world, create my legacy and live fully into my eccentricities!

May this be a great day for all.