Did I tell you before how my mother could grow plants and flowers? Did you know she probably could look at one and it would bud and bloom, well not really, but for someone that has a brown thumb it is hard to believe that said thumb belonged to her own, her daughter and not as hard to believe that she could really do that.
Everywhere we lived we had a garden, we always had flowers, petunias, lilies, hydrangeas , peonies, roses, and that’s only a few of the flowers and plants, not to mention the vegetable gardens. Even when she was declining in her health she still persevered in raising flowers and some tomatoe plants. It was nothing to her or so it seemed it was everything to me when she couldn’t do this anylonger. I cannot imagine how it made her feel.
Just the other day I had an urge to plant some marigolds, but for the sake of the plant itself and not leaning too much to memories of my mothers work of her hands I chose to forgo planting and to maintain a visual in my mind of them.
If plants could talk I’m sure the word was “Whew!”.
Posted by bustersdaughter 
