As Mother's Day approaches, I am remembering celebrations in years past. Most of them involved bright bouquets of flowers, breakfasts in bed balanced on knees - complete with bouncing children and burnt toast, and sitting out in the sun enjoying time with family. This year I am looking out at snow blowing sideways, landing on my daffodils and forsythia.
My mother is the reason I have a yard filled with flowers. Tending a garden was her quiet time, while raising six children (all within seven years of each other). My father created a terraced rock garden, which she tended with the same intense love she give to each of us.
And each day from early spring through the first frost she created beautiful bouquets of flowers for our home. She taught me to set the vases of flowers outside each night, to extend their blooms. She taught me that important things need to be planted, cared for, and then waited for with patience. And she taught me that color and light feed the soul. She died three years ago, surrounded by the bouquet of people whom she had nurtured in her own garden. And now I try to bring forward her lessons into my own small plot of land. Happy Mother's Day. May it be filled with joy, light, color and a sense of the blessings possible with time, love and patience.