Every once and awhile, the wind flows through the huge globe willows in our front yard and it seems like magic. They sway gently with the breeze, the chimes sound off in the sound yard, the crab apples float in unison....the birds flutter back and forth to the variety of feeders......and just for that moment in time........all is right in my world.
I am sitting on the front porch, my big ten year old, champagne colored Maine coon cat, (the original Flower Tree mascot ) Emmit is on the old white wicker table next to me, purring with the knowledge that the two holy terrors, the dogs, are locked safely inside the front room just a few feet away. It is the day before Mother's day and it has been an extremely busy one, filled with the gardeners that make our world turn.
About 30 years ago, could have been longer....I was visiting with my Mom & Dad in Miami and I could not figure out that age old dilemma "What is the PERFECT Mother's Day Gift". Previous years had brought new Pantsuits to her closet, (remember those lovely polyester wonders), small knickknacks that I thought she would love that now have a treasured placement on my own bookshelf, the perfect card with flowers..you understand, Mother's Day Gifts!
This particular year I had decided to dig up and plant a plot of earth that was 90% coral rock and 10% clay. Even though they lived in a lovely area of Miami at the time, this particular area of earth that I had decided just HAD TO HAVE a new flower bed was filled with Florida's amazing mix. I searched at the local nursery for just the right flowers and brought them home and started digging. Mind you, my Mom was not a gardener. The closest thing she came to flowers was the ones that Dad would send her on their anniversary. But she sat there in her chair and watched as I dug every hole, added every bag of soil, and planted every flower with a huge smile on her face.
Over the years we would plant other flower beds for Mom. Most notably the River Garden at The Flower Tree. The crab apple that graces the west side of the front entrance, the huge peonies getting ready to bloom on the north end of the garage, the flowers in pots that used to fill the deck. But none will ever measure up that day, when the last flower was planted in that hard coral rock and we sat back and said "Happy Mother's Day".
I miss you Mom, on this Mother's Day, and every day, your daughter, Susan.