Gardening is good for the soul. I'm sure of it. It did wonders for my grandma, who planted and flowered and blossomed for most of her life and long after her rounded back and arthritic fingers told her to stop. She just couldn't help herself -- the fruits of the earth brought her such joy that the toll hard labor took on her body was somehow worth every trace of dirt that crumbled beneath her fingertips.

In my own small way, I can't resist either. I'm no lifelong gardener or anything. I'm more of a spur-of-the-moment kind of girl. And I haven't a green thumb on either of my hands. My flowers always seem to die. Because no matter how much I love them at the beginning of the warm season, I end up neglecting them.

I tell my husband every year, "Please remind me not to buy flowers this year." It just seems silly to spend so much money only to toss my dead blooms after they wither and shrivel. So my husband reminds me. And I go right back out and buy more. Like I did today.

I spent about an hour with my little boys shoveling dirt and arranging red and orange and yellow and white flowers in all sorts of pots. It was a priceless hour -- although really it cost me about 60 bucks. It was refreshing and rejuvenating and in a way, healing.

I know the effects of today's flower therapy will fade, just as the flowers themselves will fail to thrive. But I also know I will do it all again next year. Because it's good for my soul. And I just can't resist.

There are all sorts of gifts for dad on Father's Day -- shirts and ties and books and coffee mugs and golf balls -- and many of us have already spent money on the stuff we can wrap up and deliver or mail off to dad on this special day. But some gifts -- the ones we can't wrap up -- have an appeal that is priceless because they focus on the moment, they build relationships, and they promote mental and physical health. And here are just seven simple but everlasting gifts to consider sharing with dad on this Father's Day.

I wrote earlier today about my mom -- about how she was headed for a mammogram this afternoon. She has since been for her exam, returned, and shared the news that we all wish for -- everything looks fine. Nothing suspicious. No cancer. And so that is my gift for today.

I have received many gifts as a result of cancer -- the news of a clean and clear mammogram is just one such gift. There are many emotional gifts I've received since my breast cancer diagnosis a year and a half ago -- extra love, overwhelming support, loads of kindness, an abundance of prayers, recent compliments about my new dark, curly hair. And I've received many tangible gifts too that comfort me every day. When I walk into my kitchen, I see an angel made from a paper clip, a bead, and a ribbon -- it was a gift from my Chemo Angel once I graduated from my eight-week course in chemotherapy. When I walk into my bedroom, I see the quilt on my bed that was made by the loving hands of my mom friends and then delivered to my doorstep when I was sick, tired, and bald. I see a pink stuffed breast cancer bear sitting on my dresser and yellow, fuzzy, comfy socks inside my dresser drawer. I see a box of cards and letters and books and relaxation tapes -- and so much more -- that sits in another room. I wear a breast cancer charm bracelet that dangles from one arm and another that jingles from my other arm and a backpack that hangs from my back. I am surrounded by gifts that were priceless when they were given to me and are just as priceless today.

These gifts that adorn my personal space lift my spirits, warm my soul, inspire me. They are constant reminders of where I've been and how far I've come. My gifts -- good news from a mammogram, emotional rewards, and actual tokens of the love and support that surround me -- have become a therapy I never looked for, never knew I'd discover, and never would trade for anything.