Spring living in your 70s looks a little different than I expected — and honestly, I think I like it better.
I think for some people, the realization — that life is short and it’s time to stop waiting — comes earlier than it did for me.
I’ve always known I was getting older. Of course I have. But after my birthday this past February, something shifted. I really saw it — I’m not the 30-something version of myself I still carry around in my head.
I’m in my 70s now.
And whether I like that or not, I know I’m in the last stretch of my life here on this earth.
That doesn’t feel sad to me. It feels clarifying.
Because if there’s something I want to do — something I’ve been putting off, something I keep saying someday about — it’s time to stop waiting.
Most of my life, I did what I needed to do.
I chose jobs that had good health insurance. I worked close to my son’s school so I could be there if he needed me. I stepped in when my parents needed help, even from 900 miles away. There were a lot of last-minute trips. A lot of responsibility.
And I don’t regret any of it. Not one bit.
But now? It’s time to build something for me.
🌱 The Backyard (Reality, Not a Magazine)
I keep calling the backyard my “retreat.”
If you saw it right now, you’d laugh.
It’s not a retreat — it’s a project. Somewhere along the way, the grass just disappeared. I don’t even know how that happened. What’s left is patchy and tired, and the whole space feels like it’s been waiting for someone to care again.
But we’ve started.
The sea grapes were completely out of control, so my husband cut them back. We hauled away the mess, and just doing that made the space feel lighter. I cleared out one garden bed. Moved a couple of bushes. The gardenia is doing beautifully. The thryallis is struggling a little, but I’m giving it time.
I still need to do one more pass for weeds, and then I can finish mulching. In the meantime, I’ve planted peppers, cucumbers, and bush beans, and we have a tomato plant settling in.
And here’s a little win I’m excited about: I just received my Aerogarden. Lettuce doesn’t survive Florida summers — folks in the area are already reporting that theirs has bolted — so I decided to try growing it indoors this year. I can already picture fresh salad greens right from my own kitchen counter. I’ll share more about how it goes once I’ve had a chance to really use it.
Nothing dramatic. Just steady progress.
And honestly? That’s enough.
📦 eBay: One Tub at a Time
Inside the house, it’s the same story.
I’ve got tubs. Lots of them. I didn’t follow the advice I give others, and I decluttered aggressively — which sounds like a good thing until you realize you’ve created a different kind of overwhelm. Some of what’s in those tubs has been waiting for a decision for decades.
So instead of being paralyzed by all of it, I’m trying a different approach: one tub at a time. Some things go to my eBay store. Some things get donated. A few things I’ve decided to keep, and some just went straight to the trash.
Some days it’s just a handful of items.
But those small wins matter. A few listings up. A few things sold. A little more space cleared.
It’s not fast. But it’s forward.
If you’re curious what I’ve been listing, you’re welcome to take a peek at my eBay store — I add new items regularly.
🌼 March Birth Flowers: Daffodils & Jonquils
If you have a March birthday in your life, your birth flowers are two of the most cheerful signs of spring — the daffodiland the jonquil.
There’s something so hopeful about them. They push up through the cold, often before anything else dares to bloom, and they arrive in the most glorious shades of yellow and white. A reminder that something new is always coming.
I shared a full post on March birth flowers last year — the meaning behind them, their history, and how to grow. If you missed it, it’s worth a read!
Click here to read all about March Birth Flowers
🌿 Closing: This Is Enough for Now
Right now, I’m not trying to overhaul everything.
I’m just trying to get back on track.
I’m not chasing some perfect version of life. I’m chasing what’s important to me now — a cleaned garden bed, a few listings, a little forward motion.
One small step at a time.
That’s enough.
This is what spring living in my 70s looks like. And honestly? It feels pretty good.
Thanks for reading — and if you’re doing your own version of getting back on track right now, I’d love to hear about it in the comments.