I weeded tall grass out of our wildflower garden this morning. It’s such an easy garden to maintain; this is the first weeding I’ve done, and with the grass as tall as I am it was easy to figure out which was weed and which was not. Plus I got to weed standing up, always a plus.
In the cool shade with a little breeze weeding was actually enjoyable. The only noises were the birds at the feeders and the bees buzzing around the flowers. I hummed along with them as I worked.
At one point, carefully standing in the middle of the garden I looked up and thought – – I should go get the camera. This is so pretty Mom would like to see it, I’ll email her some photos.
And then, for a split second I remembered and waited for the sad to come rolling over me. But it didn’t.
Instead I felt sure she was already seeing it, even before I took the first shot. And I was also sure she thought it was just as beautiful as I do.
I remember as a little girl picking her flowers from the fields and woods around the house. She put them in a juice glass and set them up on the windowsill above the kitchen sink. So when I accidentally broke a pretty pink zinnia I tucked it in my shirt right next to my heart. And when I got inside I put it in a juice glass.
And I smiled.