Well I hope you had a happy Mother’s Day – if you’re not a
mother, then you are at least the kid of one and whether you are able to stay in
touch, or wish you could, or didn’t give it that much thought – I still hope that
there are some calm and joyous recollections that you have of that unique
relationship between kid and mom.
You would think that I would be celebrating with my
daughters today. Not so. We postponed it for later this week, for reasons that
are completely inconsequential. In the meantime, I say to Ed – wish me a happy
mother’s day! – and he does, with a notable absence of enthusiasm that is
deliberate and childish and sometimes adorable.
Andy, our construction guy, the man who helped us rebuild
the farmhouse last year, stopped by. We have a small project that we want to discuss
with him. It’s like old times – Ed fires off construction questions and ideas,
Andy, shakes his head – and still it all moves forward.
Moving forward. In the garden too. One plant at a time.
We hunt for strawberries, buried under weeds – tall plants straining
for light, without much hope, salvaged at the last moment, placed in the quirky bed of veggies and now fruits.
Flowers. They’re each taking their turn now!
They’re always framing the farmhouse for me. The entrance along the brick walkway is defined by what grows at the sides.
The entire house, even the still-light-beige-brown-whatever-off-color dormer, stands in a thicket of growing things.
It's always this way: I look up, see the farmhouse in a bed of greens and emergent blooms. I rush inside to grab the
camera, not really caring that I’ve already taken this photo. Many times. And
yet, I need another.
There are subtle changes! Flowers change. What I cut for the table changes too. Daffodils done, lilies of
the valley – out. Lilac – I’m back with lilac, a late blooming variety.
And so, to that sweet smell of middle spring! And to you, moms of kids and kids of moms!
