THOUGHTS FOR MOTHER’S DAY

I wrote this to take us back to a simpler time when mothers everywhere had less to worry about. I hope it will awaken  happy memories of your mother or grandmother.

MOM - AS BEAUTIFUL AS HER GARDEN

 As eagles soar on a distant wind, my silver-haired mother rests in a swing on a narrow porch where white petunias twine and stick to each other in magnificent health. Clematis vines, lavishly dressed in saucer-sized pink blossoms, twirl and turn on a corner post as they reach for the eaves and downspouts. Dragonflies pause briefly and then flitter away. Mom’s hand-sewn, washed and starched sunbonnet rests on the washing machine in the kitchen, ready for another day of gardening. Her trowel and clippers are wiped clean and lie on the railing between the petunias and clematis. Her arm is loosely draped across the back of the swing, and I wonder if she is remembering the many evenings she sat beneath my father’s arm as they watched breathtaking sunsets.

She’s had a busy day. The weekly washing is ironed and carefully placed in paper-lined drawers. Bouquets of annuals were gathered from the garden while robins and meadowlarks shook tree branches with song. Two golden Guernsey cows languidly grazed in the meadow below the barn; having been milked earlier by a good neighbor. In lieu of pay, he accepted her presentations of fresh butter, rhubarb or berry pie when she did her weekly baking.

Before the early morning sun climbed too high into the sky, she had pulled weeds from around her “show-off” peonies. There were no insignificant blooms. Red, pink and white blossoms cohorted in one large rock-edged bed. Their heavy, drooping heads seemed to bow in shame, but I knew better. Their magnificent heads were nodding in reverence to the beauty all around them. Except for the fragile petunias on the porch railing, my mother didn’t care for puny flowers. She preferred showy species - tiger lilies, snowballs, multi-colored dahlias and zinnias, red cockscomb and lilacs. She liked her flowers to “make a statement”. However, each year she planted my favorite flower - cosmos - with their myriad colors and foliage as lacy as the collar on her finest blouse.

The white rocking chair and the sunset are too tempting to ignore. We share a dish of home-cranked ice cream while we rock and swing until fireflies begin their display of fireworks in the meadow. The eagles have again filled their nest, the cows have returned to the barn and only the mockingbird sings. My eyelids grow heavy with contentment and my heart overflows with love.

Happy Mother’s Day

This entry was posted on 7. May 2011 at 22:56 and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response or trackback from your own site.

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