Once again, it is a time of transitions in my backyard. My cold-weather-loving camellia bushes are still filled with late-season blooms, but most of their petals are starting to brown or just wilt and fall to the ground. A few months ago, the number of blossoms on those bushes were far outnumbered by nascent buds, preparing to burst open and show their full potential. Shortly after that, the bushes exploded with an amazing collage of colors and delicate shapes.

I know it’s just a matter of time before the last of my camellias disappear, and I have been cutting some of the healthier ones to bring inside so we can better appreciate this last chapter of their growing season.

Camellia bushes are evergreen; their rich waxy leaves will continue to add their own quiet beauty after the blooms are gone. But that beauty will be more like a backdrop – a contrast against which spring and summer plants and flowers can shine.

I celebrated another birthday this week and I am feeling like one of my camellia bushes. When I look in the mirror, the same basic “me” is there, but there are signs of fading and wilting everywhere. The evidence of a change of seasons in my life is undeniable. (Why did I ever think bright lights over a bathroom mirror were a good idea?)

And just as there isn’t anything I can do to extend the blooming season for my camellias, I can’t stop the inevitable progression of my own physical aging, which I affectionately call the “Cascade of Gerontological Indignities” – or CGI.

There are days when it bothers me more than others, but on balance, I want to embrace this stage of my life with enthusiasm. Even if the skin on my neck looks like a pleated skirt, and I now have vertical grooves running below each side of my mouth and I sometimes don’t recognize my own hands.

So, I signed up for a 50-yard freestyle swim race as part of the Tallahassee Senior Games. I had swum the same race two years before and was hoping to improve my time this year. For decades, I was a competitive distance runner and triathlete and regularly finished among the top three women in most races. In my 40’s, I completed 10 consecutive sub-3-hour marathons. My athletic ability became a big part of my identity.

But that was another season of my life. Leading up to the swim meet (which took place the day after my birthday) I started to panic. I hadn’t put in the kind of training I knew it would take to improve my time (self-sabotage, I know – but I figured it would give me an excuse if I had a bad race). And of course, my self-sabotage was fueled by my vanity – and my vanity was fueled by a fear of accepting physical limitations I had previously been able to defy.

Several of my friends were also competing in the meet, but they are all former collegiate swimmers and Senior Games’ record holders. This was literally the second swim meet of my life. I was a fish out of water.

I’m not sure what I was chasing when I stepped up on the starting block and dove into that pool. It was scary, it was humbling, and I didn’t improve my time. But I am happy I did it. I even received a gold medal for winning my age group – because I was the only person in it!

Most importantly though, the experience brought me back to the very first blog post I wrote last year: “A Time for Everything” – and I was reminded that right now is the time to make the most of the season of life I am in today.

Even if that means being “6-7”.

PS: My swimmer friends, Laurie Grubbs, Pat Sargent, Sally Schlak, Lisa Waxman and Bonnie Wright, all either won their events, improved their times or set new Senior Games’ records!

“Teach us to number our days,

that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

Psalm 90:12