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Saturday, May 9, 2009
Flowers For My Mother
Luckily, Sarah and I made time for an outdoor adventure late yesterday, while the sun was shining, sky blue, air warm and still and humming with the buzzing of bees in the orchard. Finding these rows of old trees in full bloom, I was reminded of the year my father decided that he and my mother should come up for a visit during cherry blossom time. Bruce took care of the bookstore that day while my parents and I drove all over the county, from top to bottom, touring blossoms. So, with that in mind, I dedicate these images to my mother for Mother’s Day. Wish you were here, Mothe! Although our weather for the weekend has now turned cold and grey again….
Yesterday’s detour from the orchards down into the secret wooded valley was cut short when a coyote appeared on the path. Sarah was lagging behind just then, sniffing something back on the ridge. The coyote and I looked at each other, then, by mutual agreement, decided to depart in opposite directions, and Sarah had no idea of the encounter she had so narrowly missed. I didn’t think she needed the meeting.
Out in the open, the trees are at the pointillist stage, leaf buds beginning to open, a blush of green visible from a distance.
The willows are particularly beautiful this year. Here is one not far from the Happy Hour, a fountain of raining gold, reminding me of a tree I only remember from a story my parents told. In Aberdeen, South Dakota, where I was born, my parents planted a willow tree in the yard of my first home, a little grey bungalow. All the neighbors told them a willow would not survive there. Was it still there when we visited Aberdeen the year I was 16? I don’t remember. Is it still there now? I like to think that it is, that there is something of us remaining in South Dakota.