It's the eve of Mother's Day and the images I've selected are a continuation from several days ago of the beginning buds from two of my rose bushes-Black Cherry on the top and the Double Delight on the bottom. They've now opened and are exposing not just their intoxicating beauty but their bouquet as well. I've superimposed them on their buds so you can see from whence they've come. And while this blog, nor this post are meant to be lessons in roses, I did say it's the eve of Mother's Day. Certainly my thoughts saunter to my Mom now and wander what we would be doing with her this day. Born in 1910, she'd be 101 yrs. young. I'd envision picking her up from some living situation whether it would be an assisted living or one of her children's homes. The thought of having her live somewhere other than with one of us would have been devastating. But, as the needs of the aged often become more than one can manage, this may have been necessary. She was a spry 83 when she died and had she lived, her vigor and enthusiasm for life would have been tough to ignore. As a boy growing up, and even as an adult, to conjure up Mom as some convalescent sitting in a day room staring aimlessly at Alex Trebeck without some mental effort at answering the question, "the best sauce to use with homemade ravioli", "what is marinara" would have been deftly callous. In spite of her lack of educational knowledge, she was quite schooled in the arena of life. And while she wasn't one to preach, nor can I really remember her bantering some clever or perceptive adage to me, it was her gently nature and her muted stoicism that has always struck a cord with me. It's not necessary for me to speculate on what she would say to me now, 61 years into my life, for she's here with me each day and she speaks loudly in my ear, " I love you son." Happy Mother's Day Mom!
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