As an organic orchardist, I have learned a lot about how much good it does to worry.

None.

If it is going to freeze, it is going to freeze. If it is going to hail for a minute and ding up 70 acres of fruit, it is going to hail. Doesn't do one bit of good to fret. But that doesn't always stop us.

So as I felt that worry coming on a few nights ago, I decided to write about a few facts--what was going on in the world around me. I started with the orchard and its environs and moved it into our home. Seeing things through my children's eyes made things easier to contextualize.

You may want to try this same process, giving yourself multiple new lenses to see the same perceived problem.

Sure There Are Things to Worry About

Late March and the river is indifferent still,

too lazy to be half empty or half full.

On the ends of the branches the peach blossoms

throb inside tight gray clusters, pushing pink

despite the prediction for cold next week.

So much to ripen, if given the chance.

The air hums electric with the pollen dance

And the orchard grass is dressed in white apricot bloom.

In the shuttered room next door to my desk

sleeps a girl in her crib, a boy in his bed,

neither worried one bit about frost.

He knows that tonight there were bats in the yard.

She knows her blanket is velvety warm.

I know I go on loving, no matter the weather.