Living in the Wild

It occurred to me recently that I'm the only one in my immediate family who doesn't garden.

I've been to everyone's home at some time, and my eyes have been treated to beautiful blooms and lush greens and, occasionally, vegetables to boot.

I, on the other hand, cringe to think what the former owners of our house would think if they could see how nature has run amok over just about every square inch of our property.

Yes, I cut the grass. But the original flowers that sprung up every year have sadly been choked out by overgrown shrubbery and weeds. 

The only good thing is that we have a pretty small yard, so the carnage goes only so far. But I can see the neighbors across the street, they of pristine lawns and impeccably trimmed hedges, shudder a little when they look this way.

Someday, you'll see me on the news: "Crazy old cat lady wields a chainsaw, goes postal on her shrubbery. Film at 11."

I suppose I should (and do) take some joy from seeing wildflowers in vivid colors poke their heads from the foliage. And you can just imagine my delight when I discovered something called "foraging." You go around your yard and pick a bunch of weeds and wildflowers and interesting greenery, then arrange them artfully in a vase. (Or place them in "forage foam," – yes it's a real thing). The only downside is you're supposed to identify the stuff you pick. I don't suppose "teeny yellow flowers" or "those big purple things" will cut it.

Oh, well.

On the plus side, my lilies of the valley have managed to survive nigh onto 30 years of neglect. They still come up next to the house every May. They're just so stinkin' cute, I have to take the time to pay them homage. Today, after mowing the lawn (it doesn't really qualify as "grass"), I paused to admire them and take a snapshot. 

It made me a little sad because they reminded me of my Mom. She of the original green  thumb who grew flowers and fresh produce with abandon. Tomorrow will be my 13th Mother's Day without her. And boy, howdy, is she missed.

I hope all you moms (including those of the 4-legged, furry or feathered variety), have a lovely Mother's Day. 

And if you're missing your Mom like I am, know that I'm sending you hugs. 

But alas, no flowers!

Happy Mother's Day, Momma