So, you saw mama’s Wordless Wednesday post yesterday with the cherry tomatoes? Yea. I did too. But I bet you didn’t know how much I love tomatoes. I watched daddy plant a bunch of tomatos in my back yard last spring.
Yum.
Yep. I know exactly where that garden is and I check it out daily. Several times a day if I can get away with it. Daddy says he put the fence up around it to keep out critters like deer and raccoons and rabbits and groundhogs and stuff.
But I know the truth. Daddy put that fence up cause of me!
You can’t see me if I hide behind this plant. Right?
I like to pick my own ripe tomatoe right off the vine. Every day I pull mama or daddy around the back side of our house when I’m supposed to be looking for a good spot to do my business. They used to be fooled, thinking I just wanted to pee in a new part of the yard.
But they’re not fooled any more. (Sometimes they are smarter than I calculated.)
They’re hoarding all the good stuff!
Mama looked up whether tomatoes were good for doggies and she found out that green ones were very bad and red ones were OK in moderation.
Moderation? I’m a sheltie. I don’t do anything in moderation!
I think daddy needs my help in the garden, mama!
Anyway, they say I can’t have any tomatoes because I’m having trouble with my tummy and my poo. I told them they are way too interested in my poo. They should get another hobby if you ask me.
Shhhhh…don’t tell them.
So I’m a sad puppy. I’m stuck here eating canned pumpkin and boiled chicken and rice and the Royal Canin kibble. I like all that stuff a whole lot (and my folks are relieved I’ve got my appitite back) but none of it is the same as a fresh cherry tomato picked right off the vine by yours truly.
Do any of you other doggies out there love tomatoes like me? Mama says I’m a weird little girl.
I’ll take that as a compliment.
Giving mama the stink eye cause she said “NO” when I tried to eat one!
I’ve been missing my mom the past week or so even more than usual. Those of us with moms who are gone miss them every day, but sometimes the ache is just more profound.
A little poppy from our wildflower bed, in early morning light.
I’ve found myself wanting to give her a call. To ask her how she did so much with all of us when some days I don’t seem to get anything done at all.
I wonder how she kept her gardens up. I don’t have any memories of her weeding, though she had gardens in our house in Adrian, and again in Howell, and then in Alabama. I can’t keep up with the gardens we have, and I don’t have nearly the responsibilities she did when we were growing up.
The coreopsis lifts it’s face to the sun.
And meals. I know I’ve talked about this before, but how in the world did she manage to get a meal (or two) on the table for six of us every single day? I know we took it for granted and often asked her what was for dinner. I don’t remember ever reacting negatively to her reply, but just the question alone placed all the responsibility on her and she must have felt that weight.
Mama? I’ll wait right here while you take those pictures and think about your Mom.
When we were older, did we ever make a meal for the family? Sometimes on Sunday we’d make the coffee cake for evening supper. Wow, what a relief she must have felt, ey? One meal during the week where we made something, though I imagine she was there to supervise. I don’t remember ever working in the kitchen that she wasn’t there too.
The zinnia stands up straight and tall.
And let’s not even start talking about laundry. Though I remember knowing how to do laundry at an early age, I also remember mom sitting on the sofa with six growing piles of folded underwear surrounding her as she tried to match all the socks. It seemed to be never ending.
Just beginning to emerge.
I know we had Saturday chores, the vaccuuming and cleaning the bathrooms and probably a whole lot more that I can’t remember. I know the list on Saturday of things we had to get done before we could go off and do whatever kids did back then seemed long.
But I doubt it was that lengthy, and nowhere near the list she handled every day. Stuff we took for granted. Stuff we took for granted her entire life.
Red lantana can brighten anybody’s day.
I remember her finally coming down to the family room in the evening after she finished whatever chore she had attacked at the end of the day. We’d all be down there watching the big bulky television and she’d settle on the sofa between a couple kids, or next to dad.
And she’d instantly fall asleep, in what I realize now, was sheer exhaustion.
Light folds into the lilly blossoms.
She’d wake up at the commercials, because, as some of you may recall, they’d be louder than the television show they sponsored. She used to say all she ever saw on television were the commercials.
Once upon a time I thought she and dad were too old to up and move across the country when they were fifty, leaving everything they knew behind. Now I’m fifteen years older than they were then and I don’t think it’s odd at all to contemplate and even accomplish such an adventure.
So much glorious color at this time of the year makes me smile.
Mom and dad had plenty of adventures, both when we were kids, and after we had left home. But I think of those early years with all four of us and dad to take care of and I don’t know how she did it.
There are smiles everywhere you look.
I hope she knows that I recognize her work now and wish I had expressed that to her all those years ago.
This week it’s been hard for me to find something to smile about.
So many families with broken hearts this week.
The news was filled with awful things. The virus killing over 100,000 Americans. The protests and violence stemming from the death that reminds us of other similar deaths.
No, this week I didn’t feel much like smiling.
And then my silly girl wouldn’t sit pretty for a picture and I had to smile…just a little.
Reminding us to stop and smell the flowers.
Yes, this week I looked really hard for something to smile about.
Oh, all right mama. I’ll look at your silly camera. Sort of.
Change Is Hard 