My mother was lucky to have many friends into her old age, and particularly her friend, Boo Dulaney, who visited every week and walked with her around the garden, sharing her interest in the plants and birds. Boo, Mom would tell me over and over, knows all the birdsongs. There was nothing like calling her on the Friday or Saturday afternoon after Boo had visited. Her voice would be lighter, her memory sharper, her hearing clearer. Before she died, she showed me a sweater she had specially chosen for Boo, a sweater covered with birds. Do you think Boo will like it? she asked again and again.