Mother’s Day dawned clear, sparkly, and sunny today. The dwarf lilac bush just off the front porch is in full bloom; I can smell it when I open the door. The lilac bush stands guard at the head of the kitchen herb garden, which is also off and running. The lilac reminds me of Mother’s Day when my daughter was very young. As a child, she had no money to go buy a gift, so she gave me what she knew I would love. The night before, after I had gone to bed she would get back up and pick up all the clutter in the family room. Then she would pull out a vintage table cloth with a spring look and set the table, always including whatever she could find blooming in our yard; almost always a few sprigs of lilac. She would wake herself up early and make me something for breakfast. Those Mother’s Days were priceless to me!
This year she is a young mother herself, but she still chose to come to my home early this morning to share breakfast together before celebrating with her own kids. So, I returned the favor for her, setting the table with that same cloth and a vase of lilacs from this house. She loves tradition!
We spent a couple of hours playing around with melting crayons onto canvas ala Pinterest after breakfast. No better way to finish off the morning than playing! Check out the results—mine is very haphazard; but I am really impressed with her meticulous application and puttering!
Now, she’s off to her home where I’m quite sure she’ll be beginning new traditions with her own kids!
And back to the herb garden. While I was cleaning out that bed the other day, I dug up this:
So many questions spring to my mind; what is the story of this ring? How did it come to be here in this garden? Why was it cut off its wearer’s finger? How old is it? Where did it travel? What did it see in its lifetime? And, . . . why is it making its reappearance right here, right now, to me? This house is almost 100 years old and had been abandoned for a decade before we moved here 2 years ago. We will probably never know the story of the ring, but how fun to sit on the porch in the sun and imagine, . . . . maybe that’s a good title for a book, “Stories From the Herb Garden” a book about all the treasures that we’ve dug up while gardening!