Momie and the Wood sorrel

  This time of year, the tiny purple blooms of the oxalis or wood sorrels brighten every nook and cranny of the Bayou.   At one time, there were a very few of the plants growing here and those were weak, thin plants. Since the plants were pretty,  I babied those until they became healthy, strong plants.  Each year, the plants were covered with blooms which made me smile.  At the time, I had no idea that the plant was edible.  I just liked the looks of it and loved the fact that it was one of the first plants to bloom in the spring and continued to bloom throughout the summer.  It fast became one of my "domesticated" wildflowers and whenever I found it in the gardens, I let it grow.  Others deem it as a weed but, here, weeds can sometimes be welcome.

  This morning while I was out doing some trimming, I was careful to leave the larger patches of wood sorrel.  One thing that I discovered about using the weed-eater, is that it is a mindless job.  As long as you keep the thumb on the trigger and feet clear of the twine, things go relatively well.  Since it does not take a lot of brain power, my mind takes the opportunity to wander a bit.  This morning's brain ambling took me back to Mark's grandmother's place.  This dear lady took me as one of her own and shared a good many things with me.  We had a lot in common. One funny little thing was that we both loved the wood sorrels.  On either side of her door, she had a large concrete urn.  These urns were filled with the oxalis plants and she babied them as I did the wild ones.  The wood sorrel was her pride and joy.  Only Momie (the family's name for her) could get away with having "weeds" in her garden boxes.  No one dared say anything about it as she could and would take them down off their high horses right quick.  In other words, "Don't mess with our wood sorrel!"

  Now every time I see the first blooms of the season, I think of this dear lady and our friendship.  We remained close until her death years ago.  The fact that a memory can be triggered by the sight of a tiny wildflower just means to me that she is still with me and always will be.  Kindred spirits...so to speak.

The Silver Morn

  Sometimes, you can tell from the moment you awaken that it is going to be a good day.  Not that I have many other kind of days but a good day is always welcome.  My grandmother-in-law (Momie) used to always say that any day that you were able to get out of bed was a great day and that you are blessed.  Through all of her many years, she proclaimed that "Life is good!" I believe her.  That said, I am up before dawn.  Rising early was learned back on the farm and is a habit that is hard to break.  Rising early gives me an opportunity to have a little peaceful time before beginning the chores for the day.  There is just nothing better than sitting on the pier, sipping on a mug of hot coffee while watching the sunrise.  

  The other morning, Mark and I wound up on the pier after a short stroll around the hillside.  This is our usual stopping place.  We listen to the world as it awakens around us and we watch as all sorts of critters search for breakfast.  That morning, however, it was the sunrise that caught all of our interest.  Clouds from an overnight rain storm lingered on the horizon.  While the rising sun usually bathes the clouds in all sorts of colors, this sunrise was different. The reds, oranges and pinks (with a dabbling of purple) never fails to awe but, on this particular morning, none of that happened.  No bright hues splashed across the sky.  Instead, a study in grays, silvers with a hint of blue greeted us with the sunrise.  Even without the flashy colors, the morning was perfect!  

  Many times, you need the calming effects of muted tones to ease you into the day.  A peaceful morning can set the stage for an easygoing, happy-go-lucky kind of day.  That pretty much describes my entire weekend.  Yep, lots has been accomplished.  The past few days have been busy.  I am tired.  BUT...the serenity of the silver morn has stayed with me through the entirety.  Momie, you were right.  Life is good and I am blessed.

Its A Tough Job But....

  Tomorrow being Mother's Day, we should all pay tribute to those women who have taken the time and effort to raise a family.  Those wonderful ladies who give selflessly so that their children can grow up to be decent human beings.  Those incredible ladies who instilled in each of us the life skills it takes, not only for daily survival but those needed to become the best in our fields.  Moms everywhere...I salute you.  Stand proud.  Pat yourself on the back.  Endulge in a bit of smug accomplishment.  You deserve it.  You have the world's toughest job and you nailed it!

  As I sit here thinking back on the ladies that nutured me thoughout my childhood and as a young adult, a thought flits through the brain.  Although, we have one natural mother, so many ladies form our outlook on life.  Mine of course was Mom, first and foremost.  She taught me kindness, generosity and faithfulness and a whole boatload of life skills.  My maternal grandmother taught me meekness, passiveness and patience.  My paternal grandmother passed before I was born but from her, I learned stubborness and not to fear hard work.  My mother-in-law taught me respect and love.  My grandmother-in-law taught me how to look at things with a sense of humor.  Aunt Marie instructed me not only physical things like how to pick a crab, can greenbeans and put sleeves on a garment but how to face whatever life threw at me.  Aunt Betty taught me the more genteel things of life such as always maintaining a good attitude and having a ready smile.  My mom's cousin, Fairie Lyn, made sure I learned preparedness, budgeting and a love for nature.  My Aunt Jamie showed me how to hold my head up high, look others in the eye and say "I am good enough!" Aunt Eloise instilled in me the love of learning and reading.  Aunt Helen gave me pointers in how to keep the imagination alive and how to see the lighter side of things.  Obviously, it takes a village to raise a child...or at least a mom and a dozen or so aunts and grandmothers!

  The main thing is that all of these ladies gave.  They gave love to a little girl growing up, to a young woman stepping out and to a mother raising kids of her own.  They just gave without ever looking at what they would receive in return.  Now even though, they are all gone from this world, their lessons live.  I look back and wish that I had asked more questions.  How I wish I had listened more, talked less and followed more of their advice.  I miss them. I can only pray that I was half the mother that they ALL were to me.  

  To all the young mothers out there in the process of raising little ones or fighting to steer teenagers in the right direction, I have one bit of advice.  Be proud of the job you are doing.  It is tough.  It is the hardest job you will ever do.  It seems to be thankless at times but do not despair. You have been chosen to be one who leads your child to greatness.  You can do it!  You ARE doing it!  Happy Mother's Day. 

Thinking of "Momie".....

Every now and again, a person just has to have a most relaxing day..a day where you enjoy what you do when you do it..a day with no rush, no stress and no turmoil..a day spent with family and good friends.  I had that day.  I must admit the morning started with a bit of a rush as I leapt out of bed and rushed to pull on jeans and a flannel shirt.  I knew there would be a gorgeous sunrise this morning and I wanted to have a front row seat!  Overnight there were lots of clouds and a slight rain which in turn usually means the reds and oranges of dawn would be vibrant.  I was not disappointed!

The pier was a mite wet and cold but that could not dampen my enthusiasm for the day.  As I sat there staring out over the water, a gentle memory pushed its way into my mind.  Mark's grandmother (we called her Momie) and I used to talk everyday.  If I did not go to visit her then our conversations were over the telephone.  We never missed a day during the entire time that I knew her.  During these conversations, we discussed just about everything under the sun but somewhere during that conversation she would invariably mention how she was thankful for another day.  The lady was in her eighties when I met her and we kept this routine until she passed in her mid nineties.  In all of those hundreds and hundreds of conversations...never once did she miss being thankful for the day.  When she stayed with us for a spell after being ill, I was impressed with her morning routine of thanking God for allowing her to wake to the beautiful morning. To her it did not matter if the day was rainy or sunny, hot or cold...she was thankful for the day.

My sunrise vigil was the start of a wonderful day as I kept thinking of Momie and her wise words.  I miss this dear lady but somehow feel she was with me this morning.  Maybe...just maybe...she was there with me watching the sunrise and whispering how thankful she was for the day!  I am thankful for the chance to view the sunrise and the start of a new day...and for a most relaxing day!