For every mother who loves this day, there is, I'm sure, someone who wishes it would be wiped off all calendar pages forever. We are complicated in our feelings, relations, our memories, our expectations. Maybe you wish your mom still lived, or lived closer to you, or you saw her today and everyday, or maybe you wish she'd been that person award recipients always praise and thank for her full throttle support of their ambitions, their trials through life, their risk taking, their choices. Or maybe your mom person isn't your mom at all. Maybe your motherly nurturing came from someone outside the family, or at least at a distance from your nuclear home.
Fact is, moms are not monolithic or all singularly awesome and heroic, or necessarily committed to keeping you happy and calm. But this one thing I am certain of -- we wish them well and what better day to say this obvious truth than on this day, marked in our consciousness (and marked in all emails coming from all vendors!) as Mother's Day. A day belonging to her, for all that she wanted to do when she gave birth to you and me. (Never mind how that finally turned out! We are a forgiving species, right?!)
How to celebrate this day? Well, by saying Happy Mother's Day for sure, to all but the die heart feisty moms who abandoned us in some fashion and refused to honor our personhood when we needed them to do just that. And maybe even those -- they all deserve a smile.
Me, I focus on my daughters, who are extraordinary mothers in the love and total support that they give to their kids (and the time and attention they give, and the joyous times they create for the children and their families).
(last week, with my bunch of offspring)
And some time in the course of the day, I focus, too, on my own little world, here at the farmette. Mother's Day is a time to smile at the grand memories and at the sticky moments which somehow all worked out in the end. To think back and to think ahead and, too, well, truthfully, I like to spoil myself a little today.
During the walk to the barn, I take extra pauses. (Seems that the allium flower is boss right now!)
And breakfast -- well, that had been a little contentious, because I ordered a panettone (in response to one of those emails from a bake shop, suggesting that a chocolate and pear panettone would be so wonderful for a breakfast this Sunday!) and Ed could not believe how much I was willing to spend on it. Sure, it's a two figure sum, but a brunch out would have cost more! Besides, I explained it was mostly the shipping that added to the tab, which just made him groan louder. Me saying "I paid for it!" did not help. It only solidified the thought that I was, well, nuts.
Nonetheless, I had my dream breakfast, outside, amidst bunches of market tulips.
Then I washed kitchen windows. I'm sorry, but the smudges on the porch door and the panes by the stove were too much. They needed a wipe down.
Now, back to a little bits of spoil. (After washing the outdoor tablecloths. Because the cats just love to laze on the porch table and it shows!.)
Where was I...
Since the day I first had land where I could plant something (flower pots count!), I've spent at least a portion of Mother's Day in greenhouses. Years of planting circled this second weekend of May. But today, when Ed asked if I needed to stop at the greenhouse, I thought about it with some longing, but gave an honest response: I'm done with planting for the season. Sure, I can find space for a plant or two, but that's rather random and certainly unnecessary. We spend money on plants, but we do exercise care and throwing dollars at flower beds that have plenty of old and new growth is not sensible or wise. Our climate now is such that I can plant around the weekend of my birthday. Three weeks earlier than in decades past. This year I got to it even earlier. Now, going forward, it's all about maintenance until I (grudgingly!) return to planting bulbs in the fall.
Maintenance sounds a lot less sexy than planting, but this is what I do and I happily set out today toward the new blueberry patch in the new orchard to see what needs attention at the moment.
The answer is, of course, weeding, everywhere. Now is the time to put some guardrails around my sanity: it's when I realize I cannot weed it all and some parts of the garden will have to take on the status of "controlled chaos." (Thinking about it makes me smile -- it's like raising kids, no? Controlled chaos!) In the garden, this means that some areas will be lightly tended. Some weeds will be removed, but many will be left to do their thing. I always pull out garlic mustard, and try to break down the common burdock (horrible seeds on that one, sticking to everything, though traditionally those very pernicious seeds have been used as an herbal medicine -- as a blood purifier, if you can believe it!), and of course saplings from trees (lookin' at you, honey locus!) dont belong in flower beds. Additionally, I try to control creeping charlie, and creeping bell flower and this year, we are both committed to getting a handle on the horribly invasive sticky willy. In my walk to the blueberry patch, I stoop and pick, and my bucket overflows with just those invasive horrors, before I even get to the new orchard.
Some of the more distant flower fields are also an imperfect blend of flowers and weeds and at this point I am reconciled to it, convincing myself that this is not only inevitable (I cannot do it all, alone), but good for the farmette lands, for the insects, for the birds, for all who pass through this way.
And in the early afternoon, Ed and I go for a bike ride to the nearby town of McFarland. It's great weather for it...
... and we pause there at a coffee shop...
Afterwards, I return home and he continues to the park-and-ride bus stop where our Polish engineer has left his car as he took the bus to O'Hare for his trip home (to fetch his pregnant wife). Ed reclaims the car, I do a leisurely pedal back to the farmette.
And now it's full steam ahead to get dinner ready. The young family and visiting friend from New York are coming and it will be our first dinner this year out on the porch. That's surely wonderful, but it does have some extra steps associated with it, so I get to it with alacrity!
With a pause for a beautiful visit with the younger family!
Okay, dinner's ready. And here they all are.
It's part two of my Mother's Day celebration and it is summer-like and joyous. My daughter's friend is, by now, like a family member. We all love her.
My son-in-law took this picture:
...just before they headed home.
It's a beautiful Mother's Day for me. For you as well maybe? Did you think about this holiday just a little? Because, you know, mothers do leave their mark. They matter to their babes. Just ask these goslings...
With so much love!
