My mother has been a gardener from my first memory of her. It’s her sanctuary. The place she goes to when she needs to solve a problem or to allow her creative juices to flow. At the first sign of spring, I can hear a rejuvenation in her voice, as she speaks of addressing the flower beds and revitalizing the array of containers she has sprinkled around the yard and house.
Of course, I’m always concerned about her overdoing things and she always promises to “cut back”, not get overheated or get entangled in a web of poison ivy, of which no amount of calamine lotion will allay the itch. (I’ve inherited that allergic reaction so my cautioning comes from a “been there, done that” place of knowledge.)
The garden reflects who my mother is. A combination of order and arrangement and a “whatever” approach to some of the more natural areas. As in life, there are some things over which we do have some control and then others of which nature has taught us to let go and let live. An important lesson, indeed.
My mother has been slowing down as Parkinson’s is taking her down a path with a few more obstacles placed beneath her footing. With a walker and a few other props, she’s figured out how to remain in her beloved flower beds. A great lesson on adapting to the circumstances presented to us.
It brings to mind one of my favorite quotes:
“In search of my mother's garden, I found my own.” ~ Alice Walker
I hope you have a lovely Mother’s Day, both today and always.
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