Mom got flowers planted on her special day

I hope your Mother's Day was as good as mine was. My brothers and I met at Mom's house. David and I gave her flowers and Michael gave her a collectable doll. It had hair as red as hers used to be.

Then we cleaned out her flower beds. I pointed out which plants were keepers and which were weeds. I decided the hollyhocks were dispensable as they will reseed and pop up in spite of us. David pulled the poison ivy down from the side of the house and dug up the roots. He wore a shirt and gloves that he later tossed in the trash. I kept my distance.

Neither of us thinks that this is the last battle we will have with the pernicious plant. We may have won this battle but it remains to be seen if we will win the war.

Michael and I went to the store and bought some annuals to fill in the gaps where the weeds had been. I transplanted the lilies and daffodils from the side of the house. They needed dividing anyway. Then I added the annuals.

David warned me that the hose had a leak. Being very careful of the leak I promptly watered the front of my jeans. Michael started laughing so I sprayed him, too. Then I proceeded to water my pants again before giving the flowers a good drink.

We spent all afternoon working together while Mom supervised. We each had our own area of expertise. Even though we rarely get together, each of us did what we were best at. By the end of the day we were all happy with the end result. Nobody was in charge. Nobody told anybody what to do. Nobody stood around doing nothing. We all worked together and laughed a lot. We laughed at each other and with each other.

Then we went inside for cake.

Michael told a story about a lady who always commented on Mom's old house in the country. She admired all the tulips, daffodils and other blooming plants. Unless it was the dead of winter there were flowers blooming somewhere on the property. We all grew up believing that everybody had flowers just like everybody had grass in their yards.

The house may have been a little four-room ex-tollhouse with no insulation or indoor plumbing but the quarter acre surrounding it always had something pretty popping up here and there. It was home.

My grandmother's house was also surrounded by flowers and blooming shrubs. As a child, I would collect armloads of daffodils or lilacs or peonies to bring into the house. I have spent a good bit of my adult life searching for the same kind of plants to put into my own garden.

It was a good day because we continued the family tradition of making the world beautiful by nurturing plants just like our mother nurtured us. We plant things for her because she can't do it for herself. We do it because we love her and she loves us.

Our own children are continuing this tradition in their own ways. My daughter grows orchids. My nephew photographs roses. My grandkids are too little to realize that by being surrounded by beautiful blossoms they are developing their own love of plants.

Maybe someday they will gather at their mother's house to plant flowers for her and marvel at how well they work together and at how much fun they have.[[In-content Ad]]