White roses are for reverence.
Reverence
June 2009
Happy (belated) Bloom Day
Donnie's Buttercups
Happy (Belated) Bloom Day
I learned of a tradition this morning. Technically, I’ve missed it, but I figure since I just found out I’ll be forgiven my tardiness.
Besides my punkin’s birthday, June 15th is the garden bloggers’ Show off Your Blooms Day or Bloom Day.
I’ve been showing off my blooms for weeks now, so it’s a no-brainer that I’m all over this even if I’m not strictly a garden blogger. [Note: I have no idea what kind of blogger I am – I’m still feeling my way.]
Minature rose in the kitchen cottage garden.
The new garden is starting to fill in a bit. For weeks now, I’ve been planting new stuff and re-arranging the stuff I’d just planted. The little darlings haven’t had time to settle in and grow. For the most part, the white garden still has the new haircut look – a bit too tidy – rather geeky looking.
Still. The wisteria is sending out tendrils, the new roses are blooming, the calla lilies are now two feet tall, and the spreading/trailing plants are beginning to spread and bloom. My blueberry plant has berries forming and I haven’t killed the tomato yet. The moss roses (portulaca) have grown in height and will spill over and begin trailing out of the baskets any second.
I finally got the hummingbird feeders up and already I have hummingbird rumbles in the jungle – watching hummingbirds fight is reminiscent of watching new kittens attack one another.
Mmmmmm...white roses
The garden (and some other things) has been my salvation. Back in December, I despaired that life events were conspiring to make me lose my sense of humor. My ability to laugh at life is my greatest strength and the feeling that it was slipping away was frightening.
My gardens contain many plants given to me by friends and family. Tending to them has firmed up the circle of life. Remembering a friend that died while admiring the buttercups she gave me grounded her memory in my heart. Photographing my great-grandmother’s irises allowed masses of memories to cascade. Remembering the passings of these loved people is not sad in the garden. Amidst the life and decay of a normal garden, remembering becomes part of the natural order and I can admire the blooms of their lives – now past.
Moss on the patio.
With all the rain we’ve been having, the moss is spreading through the crevices on my patio more than ever before. Perhaps oddly, the spreading moss is symbolic of those memories, but also of life in general. While I certainly never intended for moss to grow there, its presence is both comforting and delightful even while I pray for the rain to stop.
Happy (belated) Bloom Day.
Aw c’mon, humor me
Chef Boy "R Mine's Fabulous New Birthday Blog
Aw c’mon, humor me. How often do you get to wish a complete stranger a happy birthday from the privacy of your home or office? Commenting really is not painful. You can be anonymous – you really can – really! Just go to http://jdlks24.wordpress.com and wish Chef Boy ‘R Mine a happy birthday. I live to torment the child. Please?
Belated is okay – really – absolutely! In some respects even better.
My Baby Boy’s Birthday
Party Boy
My Punkin Boy turned 24 a little more than an hour ago. I told him that his birth was the best day of my life.
And it really was.
He was a great kid and is turning into a fine, fine man. He was what is known as a happy baby. Until his teen years, he was a constant bright light in my life. Those couple of years he grappled with hormones were a source of fretting for me – I wanted for him to make the right choices and he just wanted to be cool. It all worked out in the end, but mamas fret. [I’m in the market for grandbabies, so if any of y’all have a fine, fine woman of the appropriate age for childbearing shoot me an email.]
Chef Boy ‘R Mine’s birthday celebrations over the years have been a source of great fun for all of us. His first birthday, of course, was the most spectacular. It’s a damn shame that he probably can’t remember it.
Mama's Boy
It was a beautiful June 15th. His parents and maternal grandparents were in attendance. He sure had fun, but we had more. As the only child and only grandchild, he hauled in the loot. Punkin Boy’s birthdays, Halloween trick’o’treating, sports mania and Christmas gifting was a source of great delight for all of us. He was the root source of the delight and his fun with those events just made us all smile, giggle, and guffaw.
Since his first birthday, I have hung balloons over his bed in the middle of the night so that when he woke in the morning he would have a colorful, immediate surprise that set the tone for his birthday. Until the year he turned 20, I hadn’t missed a one.
Pregnant with Chef Boy'r Mine
In 2005, he moved to Florida to begin his brilliant career as Chef Boy ‘R Mine. I couldn’t get there that year, but made arrange-ments for my mother to do the balloon thing on her visit there. After that, I managed every year but 2006. That year I couldn’t do it and she couldn’t do it and the boy was balloonless. He probably didn’t mind, but I hate that he didn’t have that visual representation of my joy of his birth.
He moved to Charlotte a couple of months ago and, once again, I can’t get there to do the balloons, but my mom can. At about noon today, she will inflict the balloon thing on him. I had to actively discourage her from doing it in a really embarrassing way – he’s still overly solicitous of his dignity and angry-young-man persona.
Still a cake boy.
I love this young man. I’m his mom and I’m supposed to, but nonetheless I think he and I have something special going on.
On this day, I want him to understand that my love for him is unconditional, my respect for him is huge, and the joy he brings me continues. I wish for him a bright future (and lots of kids). I hope that we always remain close.
Happy birthday, Punkin.
Love, Mom
W. Va. Fur and Root 