Today is Easter. Holidays seem less meaningful now that my family is less anchored, with the loss of my mom in February of 2017. Today launched as a chilly and dreary morning. I dropped off donations in Montour Falls at the Humane Society of Schuyler County, which I of course failed to photograph, even though I left them on the porch of their very cute Kitty Kaboose. Part of the donation was a number of beds that the Handmade House had donated to my rescue. This would have made a pretty picture to send onto them, but alas, I forgot.
When I have too much of a wonderful thing, I try not to stockpile--although the temptation is great. Instead, I try to share. I've discovered that if I keep things "just in case," treats or food expire, soft materials are found by mice, unused tools get shoved to the back of a cupboard...far better to share before things grow old and worthless.
The sun came out very late in the day, and I went out to check out the neglected Memory Garden. Last year we were hit by flood after flood, and I never did a thing with the Garden. As I picked sticks and old hosta stems from the mess that I'd like to return to beauty this year, I saw that beauty had decided to unfurl without my attention. Other than the many bleeding heart plants I was given by Nancy, my first "fosterer" and an adopter, I have no early spring flowers. At least, I thought I didn't. I'd forgotten I'd dug up some flowers from my mom's garden shortly after she passed away. Last year they were too small to flower. But this year:
Surprise is a good thing. It can drag you out of complacency. Pull you out of a funk of mediocrity. Humble you with the tiny green shock that life goes on--often beautifully--even when you are distracted by things you mistakenly believe are more important.
Thanks, Mom, for the wake-up call. You were always pretty good at that.