The body definitely went over the hill before I even hit 50. Funny how I swore off doing those “old people” things, until I was doing them, and didn’t even realize it.

For example, I spotted a pair of geese at the pond today and couldn’t have been more excited they choose our bucket to have their babies. I’ve gone to the window at least a dozen times today to check on them. What could be more exciting! My younger self would have said, “nearly everything.”

Spring is here and I’m geared up for the season. Winter was long and I’m itching to get outside and play in the dirt. I know it’s way too early to plant anything and the few plants I’ve been trying to baby along are going to call it quits if I don’t get them in the ground soon. The winter almost did me in with so much snow, I started buying plants way too soon, but every time I passed them in the store I felt as though they were a sign spring really would come, eventually. I’ve officially become the ol’ lady roaming around the plant store, longer than necessary.

Although I haven’t seen many robins yet, the cardinals and blue jays are still enjoying birdseed from the feeder. (If that doesn’t sound like something an “old” person would say I don’t know what does.) During the snowmageddon months they managed to go through pounds of food in a single day. I’m not sure if I was just imagining it, but by the time the snow melted, most of them looked overweight.

Although mowing takes a big chunk out of my day, I can’t wait for it to begin. My therapy sessions on the mower are long overdue. I asked to take the mower out last weekend when we had true spring temperatures, just to mulch the leaves, but it was a no-go. He’s as obsessed with greasing and oiling the mower as I am with using it. One of my downfalls is being patient when I’ve got my eye on the prize and as much as I’ve tried being pouty about the lack of effort, on getting the mowers ready, it still hasn’t happened. He knows me well as I’ve torn up the grass too many times by mowing dormant, soggy grounds before it’s time.

I have a new plan of attack for the moles this season. I’m determined to lead them to someone else’s’ acreage. I know that’s not being very neighborly, but I’m over the dirt mounds they cause. They seem impossible to get rid of, but even if I have to set up camp by their runs and mounds, I’m either going to catch them in a trap or gas them out.

It’s these kinds of thoughts that bring me back to reality. I’m truly over the hill. My concerns have revolved from how to be fashionable and trendy to birds, moles (both the varmints underground and the odd looking ones on my body) and the weather forecast.

Just to be clear, I do love being over the hill.

Sandy Turner lives in Independence. Email her at sandydownhome@hotmail.com.