Bless our Mothers

I don't know about you, but I've put my mother through the wringer.  It hasn't always been rough, but I've had a lion's share of rough patches and, through everything, she's been there.

She's a wonderful woman, an artist, a chef, a gardener, a lover of good wine, and a lover of cheesy movies.  I came by my status as geek honestly - I learned it from my mother who has Star Trek ornaments on her tree in December and action figures on her desk at home.  I learned all the little things from her, and the big things, and the things I never thought I'd need to know but one day was overjoyed to remember she'd taught me.

She is, thankfully, still in this world for me to Skype with every Tuesday.

I don't want to think about a point in time that I can't do that.

Sunday many will gather with their Mothers, and will bless them in many different but equally valid ways.  We will take to social media and send well wishes and blessings to mothers that we know.  Some of those women will be friends, other will be our sisters and cousins and nieces.

No matter how you honor her, honor your mother.

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Your human mother isn't the only mother to honor on Sunday.  Honor your Earth mother, your home and the womb you dig into when planting.  Honor Gaia with song or silence, but honor her.  Remember her and touch her with reverence as you would your human mother.

Mother's day marks the absolutely end of frosts up in New England.  It's the point in time where I'm sure the only threat to my plants will be the voracious squirrels that seem to think my planter boxes are their own salad bar, and whatever vicious rains the summer will send us.  (last summer we got a storm so bad it tore up buildings not far from my house.  Goddess bless - we were spared any devastation) So while many go to brunch with their mothers, I go to the nursery and collect the plants I will nurture and raise over the coming months.  I smile merrily as I pick tomato plants and herbs, and think fondly of the seedlings growing at home.  Sunday I'll get my hands dirty as I make room around the yard for the newest arrivals.

My grandmother taught me how to garden, my mother taught me how to capture what I grew in artwork - I am forever thankful to them both.