In my mother’s garden

Peonies from the back garden.

Before my mother passed away we planted peonies in the back garden. The back door of her first floor apartment opened to the small yard and perennials along the stone wall while my back door opened on the second floor and the wooden stairs led past the window box and into the garden. My daughter had given us some which she had dug up from her own yard up the way.

In the three years since my mother’s death the garden flowers have been quiet and I have stayed away because the sorrow in my heart was fresh and needed time to heal. This year the flowers everywhere are glorious and colourful and call to me with their luscious aromas.

So…I have ventured once again down the wooden stairs, past the window box, and into the garden. It is lonely there. I miss my mother’s voice, I miss her beautiful presence. I wish she was here with me as I notice that the daisies are starting to bud and I pick a few of the peonies and bring them upstairs to a small vase.