A Mother’s Day Tribute

This sits in my front hallway. It is a picture of my mother, Lillian, and her favorite flower, Lily of the Valley.

Spring is in full swing here in Boston and Cape Cod. It’s so great to wake up to the sound of birdsong and not snowplows. We’re providing a safe home for a growing family of robins at our back door. Our front lawn is providing a haven for a nest of the sweetest baby bunnies. Motherhood is happening all around as we approach that randomly selected Sunday which is meant to honor mothers. 

My own mother, Lillian, has been lost to me for many years now. First to the fog of dementia and last to her final journey, I hope, to a kinder shore where she is once again whole and happy. I loved her with my whole heart. Of course I miss seeing her and hearing her voice-that is a part of loss. But loss creeps up unexpectedly and sharply with a fragment of memory or a scent being carried on the wind.

Here is my mother carrying me as a baby. Featuring her signature white streak in the hair.

I was recently looking through a photo album and found this picture of baby me being held by my mother. They say baby birds and other animals imprint on the first face it sees-often the mama. The baby then follows the mama until it is able to live safely on its own. I did the same. The only difference is, I imprinted on the back of my mother’s head. She was born with beautiful, strawberry blonde hair. Yet in the back, she had a pronounced streak which was black and then turned white in her 20’s. For my sister, brother, and me it was what we sought in a crowd if we lost sight of her. Never her face, always her hair. 

If you enjoy the scent of Lily of the Valley, I would recommend this particular product by Woods of Windsor. You can order it through Amazon by following this link: https://amz.run/6gR7 .

And what a baby bird I was! I’d follow her around and never wanted her out of my sight. Together we’d wander the woods behind our house or even the backyard looking for treasures. Our backyard was filled with Lily of the Valley. When I smell its clean, astringent scent, I’m transported back to our little house with the rock garden filled with all sorts of beautiful things. But Lily of the Valley is the flower I most keenly associate with her and our time together. 

When I was getting married, it was a warmer than usual May that year. Together we plucked buckets of Lily of the Valley to send to my florist. I carried that scent with me down the aisle. 

One of my favorite books, The Secret Garden. To order your own copy of the book, follow this link: https://amzn.to/3BlbiqE .

One of the books we both loved was The Secret Garden. What little girl doesn’t dream of being led to a place of sanctuary by a flirty little robin? When the movie version came out many years back, we went to see it together. That Christmas, she gifted me with a copy of the book and a note telling me how much that afternoon together and our relationship meant to her. It meant so much to me too. 

Unearthing the Secret Garden, by Marta McDowell. To order your own copy of the book, following this link: https://amz.run/6gR9 .

I recently read a biography on Frances Hodgsen Burnett. It explored her gardens and where, possibly, she had found the inspiration for her most famous book. She was generous with the bounty from her garden and would send bouquets from the country to her friends in the city with no room for growing. Toward the end of her life, she copied out a poem , God’s Garden by Dorothy Frances Gurney, which I’ll recreate in part here:

And I dream that these garden-closes

With their shade and their sun-flecked sod

And their lilies and bowers of roses,

Were laid by the hand of God.

The kiss of the sun for pardon,

The song of the birds for mirth-

One is nearer God’s heart in a garden

Than anywhere else of the earth. 

As she got older, my mother’s day gift was a garden full of plants for Mom to nurture and enjoy for the growing season. It has become our family tradition as well. To all those who nurture and provide a safe space for a little human, this Sunday is for you too. I hope someone brings you an extravagant bouquet to honor that. As for me, I’ll look into the face of a friendly pansy and remember the woman who gave me my love of nature, flowers, and family. 

Happy Mother’s Day!

Mom and I at her 50th Anniversary Party.