The Gold My Mother Left Me

Last week I had a chance to move two fairy roses from where they were dying to someplace new. One of the roses I planted in one of the front beds. The soil was okay, but it was basic Maryland soil, very clayey and needed plenty of humus and fertilizer. The other rose was going in the back yard. The soil in this back yard bed is a fabulous dark loose lovely soil that will grow anything. I didn't need a shovel for this hole, I could have dug it with my bare hands.

That soil is the gold my mother left to me. Everytime I dig in it I remember her, more specifically I remember her in the garden, in this sturdy white dress that had sunflowers on it. It's a memory from when I was a child. I would come home from school and not even go inside, I would head around to the back of the house because I knew that in the spring time, she would be there. I remember her hands, but especially I remember her hands covered in the soil.

When we moved to Maryland in 1969 my mother set out immediately to change the dead soil we bought with the house into a rich piece of living earth. The builders scraped away the topsoil and sold it, then built our house and laid down sod. I was too young to remember if the sod survived, but I think I remember the reseeding process.

Mom's garden was magical to me when I was little. I remember running home from school in the spring and the fall and not even going in the house, but running around back because I knew that was where she would be, and joining her in the garden, me to play, her to continue working. My brother and I had a section one summer that we begged to be kept just dirt so we could play. We built an elaborate system of roadways, tunnels, rivers with real water and houses that we could run our vast collection of matchbox cars across, over and through. We used our Tonka toys to move that dirt around and we played out there for hours. I can still hear her shouting from the house to shake off as much of the dirt from our clothes as possible while still in the garden.

From the beginning Mom wanted an organic garden, so she used grass clippings to keep the weeds away. Not just from our yard. One of the most embarrassing recurring episodes of my growing up years, Mom used to take me and my brother out to collect grass clippings from the neighbors. The embarrassing part is that Mom would roam the neighborhood checking on who used Chemlawn or some such service and note that house. She then noted those homes where chemicals weren't used and then almost daily during the summer we have to get in the back of the old station wagon and ride with her to pick up bags of other peoples grass clippings, we would beg to avoid classmates homes. My brother and I used to hide, lay low and throw those bags in the wagon as fast as we could. Once we got home it wasn't a big deal to unload. The worst was if there was trash mixed in with the grass.

But all those years of spreading grass clippings over the beds and in the garden have surely done an incredible job of making the pure clay soil of 30 + years ago into some of the richest and deepest garden loam in our neighborhood. Now that she's gone, I'm so grateful I have that treasure of gold. This summer I have come back to the garden with renewed vigor and hope, and it has repaid my attention with delicious peas, raspberries, tomatoes, lettuces and micro greens and bounteous fragrant herbs. It repaid the deer with the cucumbers, which they ate down to the ground, stalks and all after we only harvested one or two. Even now in the waning days of summer I have bushes of basil and lemon verbena I must put to good use and a ton of tomatoes that will never ripen. Planning for next years garden has already begun.

Mom's Funeral

I went back in time and pulled this out of a post I'd made to a Pancreas Cancer Support Group I was a part of when Mom died. Just wanted to post this here, make it permanent.

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The day was SOOOOOOO amazing. That it didn't rain was incredible given the summer we've had, and that it had been dry and lovely for a few days was great, but honestly I don't remember a prettier day this summer. Maryland has had such an interesting summer, but it gave us a gorgeous, lovely, bright day, with high blue skies, a kind breeze and just the right temperature.
The bagpiper was this great guy who did so much more that we thought he would do. He played for 1/2 hour before the service, so of course we were all crying as we walked in. It was just incredibly touching. Even inside you could hear him play.
Then, it was standing room only. People I hadn't seen in years, decades even, were there, as well as really dear friends and nearly all the family. My nephew in the service made it into town the night before and was there in his uniform, mom would have loved to see him dressed in his Marine greens. The service and the readings were wonderful, I got through mine, we all did, excellently. My dad's eulogy was so amazing, it was funny and dear and really honored her. Mom's best friend gave the other eulogy and oh my gosh she did such an amazing job. My mom asked her to make sure that everyone there heard the gospel, heard that Jesus Christ is God and that he died for us and that through him we can be saved and go to heaven. She did a great job for mom, kind through out, but still very specific. We sang one of her favotite hymns, 'The Battle Hymn of the Republic' I can still hear mom marching around the house singing at the top of her lungs, 'Glory Glory Halleluia!' Then at the end, my brother was going to get her urn to take it to the cemetary and he improptu got to the mike and said 'My mother always said, 'My son, my son.' well, My Momma, my Momma'. His voice cracked, he started to cry a little, we all just wept. He got the urn, then dad, and the kids followed behind.
When we got outside, the day was still so amazing and wonderful, and we gathered the family and waited for a minute or five, and then the piper started playing, and he walked with my brother in the middle carrying her urn and my father on the other side. We walked behind. The cemetary is about a quarter mile away from the church, so we stopped traffic, which mom would have loved, and the long procession lead by the piper walked on the glorious day to the cemetary. I loved that walk. Once we got there, the piper played until everyone was up at the grave site. Then there was the little ceremony, then we put dozens of roses over her urn, everyone filed by to put a rose down. And as the minister finished, the piper played Amazing Grace. It was all so beautiful and lovely. The piper played the family and who ever was left back to the church and for a little while after.
Then we ate the amazing lunch prepared by her church and talked about her. People brought the things she had made for them, quilts, cross stich, afgans, memories. We had three boards of pictures of mom. There were lots of flowers, even though we said to donate to John's hopkins, but mom loved flowers, so it was totally appropriate.
What an amazing way to honor a wonderful lady.
Afterwards, the family all came back to dad's house and we ate and drank and danced and remembered, till very late in the night. Mom would have loved that too.
My mom was so amazing. I miss her so much, but I am very glad that we could honor her, her memory and accomplishments so well. She will be so terribly missed.