Mother's Day

It is Mother's Day.
My mother and I used to share our plants. She lived on 'sand' and we live on 'clay', which meant that the plants from her garden thrived so much more than the ones in hers. Despite all her care it would never become what she saw later over here. With disbelief she would stand there and watch, would pull her skirt in the for her so typical manner and then say: 'I do not understand it ...... it is fantastic how the plants do so well in your garden, your soil is so good'.

This pink strawberry is from her garden. It is potted up to share it with others this spring. So pretty! Bright and colourful, just as she was.

My father was really in charge of the garden and would do most of the work. When he could no longer do it my mother took over. She had a different 'touch' to the garden. My eldest sister could not always appreciate how she planted the perennials like soldiers lined up next to each other. A systematic mind and so disciplined which became visible in her garden approach!

How I miss her, but she is there in the garden - I hear her, I can almost touch her, and touch her plants, but I cannot talk with her anymore. And that we used to do so much, talk and laugh together!

Happy Mother's Day!

by Jessie Willcox Smith