Ever since I can remember, my mother has always been a gardener. And I am sure that her love and nurturing of all that grows, is one of the reasons that I love gardens too.
Even as a small child, I can remember sprinkling my first packet of seeds onto a patch of soil together, and my delight sometime later when the miracle of yellow blooms appeared.
Throughout the years, I have watched my mother create magical and beautiful gardens filled with shades of green and bursts of flowering colors. Places she would refer to as her “secret gardens”. Tucked neatly around her home, she and I would sit for hours in these foliage filled coves and watch the changing beauty of her art. It is in these lovely places that some of my most special moments have been spent with my mother. I would listen as she reminded me that every seed has its time and with love and patience, miracles happen.
So it is almost impossible for me to see wisteria in spring draping across a sunlit road, iris surrounding an old oak tree or even a pot of geraniums, and not think of the tenderness of my mother’s soul and her love of beauty. For as long as I live, I wlll always see my mother’s special spirit shining from every garden I pass through, rivaling even the most beautiful places on earth.
This is her gift to me.
Thank you, Mama
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