Dear mom, she never cared too much about gardening. It was dad who had the green thumb.. just more work for her, having both hands full with us kids. Bless her. What to do with "all those tomatoes" for instance. Surely that thought came to her one blistering hot day in late August thinking of the job ahead; canning the back garden harvest. That summer day is my earliest and most vivid tomato memory.
A lady from church came by to visit and Mom, generous as she always was, but going a tad overboard, gave her the whole lot from the garden. I mean every single one of dad's cherished red tomatoes. I don't think she really meant to give it all to our visitor but, caressed with encouragement she just, got carried away. Well you could have lit a match and no more fireworks could ever erupt from that house then when dad arrived home from work! I smile now at the unfortunate memory but some days, when I am here working in the kitchen trying to 'put by' as they say, I feel perhaps mom had a good idea there. (Sometimes fireworks are worth enduring, if you don't have to can tomatoes ;-) By the way, I did speak up to mom and the church lady that dad 'won't be happy' in my quiet be a good little girl voice...and the lady with her three bags full did have a glimpse, just a tiny glimpse of guilt on her face, but only for a moment...then she walked out the front door like a queen...the 'tomato queen'.
Magnolia blooms are asleep, warm in their furry pods. Witch Hazel 'Diane' has been feasted on, but the rabbits own the garden too, and the birds and the squirrels. We must provide for the littlest among us. Hope, and promise, the words and value of spring shared recently here. We must have hope and there is promise. For now, that is what sustains.
Linked to dear friend Pondside.