My Mother’s Garden
I spent yesterday pruning back my rose bushes, weeding a small plot in front of the house, mulching and planting flowers. It was a great day. My hands hurt, my back is sore, and my hip keeps cramping up, but I am happy. The flowers I planted were a collection of my mom’s favorites. She never missed a spring of planting flowers in our apartment complex growing up. There are impatiens, alyssum, marigold, pansies, & geranium nestled in among the dying daffodils and hyacinth – My Mother’s Garden. She would be proud.
Mother’s Day My Way
Mother’s Day chokes me with emotion. I miss my own mother so much. This year I decided to make Mother’s Day my way. I wanted to see her love as I sat on the porch this morning; now I do. I was determined to take matters into my own hands and create a space that reminded me of some of the happiest moments of my life, so I did. As Mom would say, “I’ll do it myself said the Little Red Hen, and she did.”
A Child’s Bouquet
As a child, I recognized Mom’s love for flowers and would often scour all the apartment complexes nearby to pluck the best flowers for her. She’d scold me sometimes because she knew the effort it took to maintain a garden. Nevertheless, the perfectly curated child’s bouquet would live on the table. Often, I would see her hunched over on her hands and knees, digging and planting happily humming to herself. She planted in the front and the back of the building so everyone could enjoy the beauty of flowers regardless of which path they took.
At the head of the path outside leading to our building’s door were two large evergreen bushes. Mom loved these the most because they provided the perfect amount of shade for her impatiens. When the apartment complex was sold and turned into a co-op, the management company came one day and dug up the dishes and put them next to the dumpsters as if they were trash. Mom was at work at the time and would have been heartbroken. When our 90-year-old neighbor saw what had happened, he promptly went to the dumpster and dragged the two massive bushes back, and planted them up against the wall under his window so that Mom would have a place to plant her flowers. He was such a skinny old guy, I can’t imagine how on earth he managed to get them back there all by himself, but he did. He knew how much she loved them.
My mother’s flowers taught me so much more than just gardening. From watching her, I learned patience, devotion, ingenuity, sacrifice, and faith. My mother’s garden was so much more than flowers – it was love.
Proverbs 31:28–29: “Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: ‘Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all.'”