Enough is enough. In Colorado, Mother’s Day is supposed to be the safe day to plant tender annuals. But it snowed all day today, and is supposed to be below freezing for the next two days. My house is full of flowers and vegetable plants waiting to make their debut in the garden. I’m all in favor of the extra moisture, but couldn’t it just rain?
On a much more serious note, this is the first Mother’s Day since my mother passed away, and I miss her terribly. I think about her frequently when I garden, and I’d looked forward to spending the day with my fingers in the earth and my mind on my memories of my mother. So many memories, so many things in my garden that remind me of her: the garden arch she gave me for one birthday, the peonies she sent me for another, the stone-colored statue of the Blessed Virgin that reigns in a bed of periwinkle. She was like that – she saw the passions of each one of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren and not only encouraged the pursuit of the passions, but took them on as part of herself.
So today, I tell myself, if I can be even half the mother, half the person she was, I’ll be happy. Here’s to you, Edith Irene, you were some pumpkin!