As I walk the Acres in 2013, I, as always, take great joy in the beauty of the Acres. From the pussy willow by the pond garbed in silver in late February til the yellow and purple waves of goldenrod and asters glorify the wild area in November, I will find joy each day as I walk and embrace God's artistry. Right now, the stars of the show are the lilies, and they have only begun to shine. Sure, nothing is perfect. The number of iris blooms was way down this May, but the ones that did bloom were lovely indeed. Sure, it looks like a down year for the phlox as well. But I did find a yellow flag iris that loves being in the bog. And a few new Japanese iris bloomed this year--a couple are blooming right now. And the lily "harvest" looks as if it will be spectacular. Joy is everywhere!
But there is sorrow here as well as I walk each day. Mom's not here this year to share it with me. No reason to bring bouquets into the house. I'm not a great fan of bouquets--neither was Mom--but with her inability to walk the Acres with me, I brought the flowers to her. No more. And her container garden outside the doorwindows is spectacular again this year and will only grow lovelier as the days pass. But she's not here to enjoy it. No one to sit on the patio, floppy pink hat, sunglasses, et. al. and enjoy the flowers in the planters and the beauty of the beds near the house. I sit there once in awhile--sans floppy hat and sunglasses, of course.
There is a missing presence here at the Acres. As long as God allows me to live here--and I pray it will be a long time--Mom will always be here. And I cherish that. I would love to tell her that her idea of a white iris bed by the pond was stunning this year. Magnificent! I would love to tell her that her idea of a rock garden in the meadow was gorgeous this spring once more. I would love to bring her a new wild flower that had been added to the Acres this year by my Gardening Angels, and ask her to identify it. She was always right--or at least, she came up with a name she was sure of. =) I would love to remind her over and over and over again that the little blue flowers in the flower bed that she could see from her chair were called balloon flowers. I would love to show her the new bed the Ziff family enabled me to install this year in her memory. But such things will not be. She is not here. She will never be here again.
And yet, there is joy here. Always. Mom is here in my memories. I even still sense a need when mowing the Acres to stop and check my cell phone to see if she called and needed anything--or forgot where I was. Yes, I rejoice daily in the beauty that is here. And I rejoice that for parts of five years I could share the beauty with Mom. Two joyful hearts are better than one, eh? It was an exquisite time--heartaches, frustrations for sure at times, but a lovely five years of sharing the blessings of God's creation--sharing the things we both loved, the things she had taught me to love from a little child.
". . . such sweet sorrow."
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