I’ve never seen a ghost, experienced magic or had a paranormal experience. I’m not religious, but I believe in the power of prayer flags. That the wind wafts blessings through the air as it blows through them. I’ve had them strung on my porch since I moved into my house, and coming home and seeing them makes this country girl raised as a Methodist inordinately happy. As do the string of tin can lanterns made by a friend of mine. And the twinkle lights that stay up year round. Bless this house. Bless everyone who comes through the door. Bless the little green lizards that climb the screens. Bless, I guess, the damn slugs that sometimes make their way onto the porch and scare the crap out of me. Bless the delivery guy who leaves Amazon packages on the porch, for he shall enter into the heaven of books. Bless the doormat made of recycled flip-flops and the feet who journeyed in them. Bless the aloe plant that I forget to water and yet quietly survives, waiting for the bad sunburn it will treat without saying “I told you so.” Bless the Martha Stewart wicker couch from K-Mart purchased before her fall from grace and still jaunty on the porch in a recent coat of turquoise paint. Bless the amazing little woodpeckers that come to the feeder and even the schoolyard-bully jays that try to take it over. Bless the cliched white picket fence that is verging on shabby, and bless the wide world that lies outside the fence where blessings come and go on the wind.