It was a rough winter. The weather was cold and dreary, and my sweetheart merl was traveling a good bit.

One of my friends, Pearl, was diagnosed with cancer, and another, Roberta, abandoned me every other weekend to be with the guy she met on the internet, of all places. I even saw less of Johnny Mac, the middle-schooler I've been tutoring. He's always running through town with those binoculars of his looking for stray dogs or neighbors with a secret - or visiting with Joy, the dratted new neighbor who is never home when I stop by. I imagine her sitting at home in red lipstick and expensive jewelry, plotting ways to avoid me.

Whining? Yes, I admit I have been - but not any more. Spring is here, which is all about new beginnings. When tender pink petals appear on the cherry trees and birds wake me in the morning, it's time for a new attitude. It doesn't hurt that Pearl is about to finish chemo, Roberta and I are getting together this weekend, and Merl is coming for a nice long visit soon. As for the Mystery Lady - who needs her and her red lipstick anyway?

I decided the best way to turn my attitude around was to hike Riverside Trail, which is full of wildflowers this time of year. I drove over to the park where the trail starts, and headed out, not a soul in sight. About twenty minutes in, I came to one of my favorite spots - a musky tunnel of hemlocks that spills the hiker onto a bank where it's easy to sit with your feet in the water of the Awenasa River. I took off my shoes, rolled up my pants, and plunged my feet into the cold water.

I was just beginning to relax when I saw out of the corner of my eye a black snake slipping through the current straight in the direction of my naked tootsies. I gasped and yanked my feet out of the water, knocking one of my shoes into the river. Without thinking, I lunged for the shoe, grabbing it, but I lost my balance and tumbled straight in.

Gasping and sputtering, I shot up, drenched but still holding the silly shoe. When I finally found my footing in the muddy water, I looked around for the snake, only to realize it was a plain, wet stick, floating by with complete nonchalance. "Oh, for goodness sake," I sighed.

There was nothing to be done but climb out and get home to a warm bath. But looking at the bank, I couldn't find an easy way to crawl out. I was beginning to wonder if I'd be stuck there all day when a woman suddenly emerged from the path.

"Oh, my goodness," she cried, reaching out her arm. "Let me help you." She grabbed my hand with surprising strength, and between the two of us I managed to pull myself up to the bank where I sat covered with mud, drippy clothes, and a feeling of complete humiliation.

"Are you all right?" asked the woman.

"Yes," I replied, breathing hard. "Thank you so much for helping me." I turned to look at her for the first time. She was about my age, with white and black peppered hair cut straight across at the shoulders. She had a simple, beautiful face, and I found myself thinking of the open petals of a flower. Then I really started to shiver.

"You must be freezing," she said, and to my surprise, she rubbed her hands up and down my arms to warm them. "How did you end up in the water?"

I laughed. "I accidentally knocked my shoe in, and when I went to get it out, the shoe came out and I went in. I'm actually rather embarrassed about it."

"Oh, there's nothing embarrassing about these kinds of things," she responded seriously. "They're just part of life. Fortunately, there's usually a helping hand around."

I wasn't sure what to say to that, so I just said "Yes, thank you," and put on my squishy shoes.

"Do you need any help getting home?" she asked. "Do you live far?"

"Just over in Nubbins," I said. "I'll be fine."

"Oh, I adore Nubbins," she said, "Well, if you're sure you're okay, I'll be off."

I watched her disappear into the woods, then sloshed home myself, heading straight for the bathtub. It was only after I had soaked awhile in the bubbles that I realized I never got the woman's name. Who was she? And what about that Nubbins comment?

Wait a minute ... could that woman be the mysterious neighbor I've been complaining about? Is it possible I would once again have to learn the lesson about not making assumptions? Well, I'd been looking for Spring to give me a new attitude, and I guess I got it.

I sighed and sank deeper into the water.

")