A Garden, a Song, and the Gift of Saying Yes

(Yes, even after 60.)

I didn’t know what I was getting into when Helen texted me. “Wear comfortable clothes. Bring a light jacket. We’re going on an adventure.”

That’s all she said. No location, no agenda, no explanation. Just an open-ended invitation from a new friend I’d only just begun to know...but already adored. 

Helen is one of those women you can tell has been dancing through life in her own rhythm for a long time. She has spark, spirit, and a creative streak that doesn’t ask permission, yet she’s comfortable…easy to be with.. Naturally, I said yes.

She picked me up in her new car, which she was just as excited about as the day ahead. 

Diane...her longtime friend...was already sprawled in the back seat, leg elevated, still healing from a painful dog bite. I’d never met her before, but within the first two minutes, I knew I liked her. She had kind eyes, a quick wit, and that calm groundedness that comes from someone who’s seen a few storms, made peace with them...and, as a result, gained a quiet wisdom.

We drove and laughed and shared a bit of ourselves until Helen pulled into a place I’d never been: Discovery Gardens in Northwest Washington. It’s not just a garden...it’s a sprawling sanctuary tended to by local master gardeners. Every section is lovingly cared for. Flowers, herbs, vegetables, native plants, and whimsical little corners that feel like secrets meant just for you. It’s the kind of place that instantly slows your pulse. Where even your inner monologue takes a deep, refreshing breath.

Helen gave us a gentle shove...“Go wander, I’ll meet you in ten”...and off Diane and I went, stepping into rows of lush greenery, blossoms in every color, bunnies darting through the pathways like something out of a storybook. And… as eagles soared overhead, Diane shared her knowledge of some of the beautiful plants and history. 

The air smelled like soil and possibility…and my spirit soared.

And then, when we circled back toward the picnic tables, we saw what Helen had really been up to.

She had set a table with a floral cloth, real china, cloth napkins, and a full tea spread. Let me say that again...real china. No paper plates. No plastic forks. We’re talking crustless cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches, egg salad cut into little quarters, and another savory sandwich with cheese, pepperoni, and peppers that I’m still dreaming about. There were homemade scones, warm and crumbly, with butter and jam. Chocolate cake. Vanilla raspberry cake. And a spread of teas that made it feel like we’d wandered into some enchanted corner of a Jane Austen novel.

It was… exquisite (I have not used that word in years!)

But even more than the food...or the setting...it was the feeling. Of being seen. Thought of. Welcomed. Helen had created this whole experience not for a birthday or a holiday or any occasion at all. Just because. Just to say, “You matter. You’re included. Life can still feel magical.”

And there I was, the newest member of this little trio. Feeling oddly at home.

We talked for a long while...stories about families, dogs, spiritual journeys, gardening triumphs and disasters, old friendships and the miracles of unexpected connection. Diane and Helen have a sweet friendship that is both comfortable and wild, like a quilt made of silk and denim. They let me right in. Not on the edges, but in the middle.

That’s the myth, isn’t it? That it gets harder to make friends the older you get. And sure, there’s some truth to the logistics...we’re all busy or tired or guarding our hearts a little more carefully. But the bigger truth is this: when you say yes...to people, to adventure, to invitations that don’t come with full itineraries...life still surprises you. Friendship still finds you. And sometimes, it brings scones…and jam.

One of the most beautiful moments came as we were leaving our picnic table. A group of memory care residents arrived with their caregivers for lunch under the open sky. As if on cue, Diane...who, I should mention, has a beautiful voice that could hush a noisy restaurant...broke into “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad.” prompting us to join in.

A few of the residents began singing too...whispering at first, then louder as the words slowly came back to them like old friends. One man tapped his fingers. Another smiled so wide it cracked something open in me. We sang only that song, but the ripple of joy lingered long after. It was such a small thing. And yet, not small at all.

The truth is, I’ve been a little weary lately. Life has its layers, and not all of them are gentle. But that day, I felt light. Fed...body, mind, and spirit. 

Being with these two women reminded me what connection feels like when it’s easy and kind. When no one’s performing. When it’s okay to just be who you are, with all your stories and scars and tenderness.

And what a gift that is.

By the time we packed up, I felt like I’d been given something sacred. Not just the tea and the china and the view...but the reminder that life still holds surprise, and joy, and song, and sisterhood.

I think sometimes we forget that. We get practical. Protective. We think the best days are behind us. But that’s a lie dressed up as logic. The best days are the ones we’re still open to. And this one? It was perfect.

Not because everything was planned or polished. But because it was full of beauty, intention, nature, connection, and something even rarer...presence.

And maybe that’s the real invitation. Not just from Helen and Diane, but from life itself.

Say yes.

Diana