It’s Mother’s Day.  I’m dressed in white with mom’s pearls and special necklace.  In the garden.  Above me, an Australian duck circles noisily. Another sits silhouetted on the remnants of the Tuart tree.

I’m in nature. Early morning chirping of birds while Ruffles my poodle unearths my newly planted herbs.  His paws print my white pants. I’m probably in denial about wearing white in the garden with a puppy.

Yet this is the best place to reflect on my mother.  It’s six years since she died.

It’s not a deep reflection, just a light and happy one. Celebrating her love of life and nature.

As I look at the seedlings section, I remember her words.  “Oh Jenny, it’s so Wonderful to see a seed germinate! It never ceases to be a miracle!”  At 87 it still filled her with a sense of wonder.

So, how blessed I am to have a space to see and enjoy nature. To get my hands (and fingernails!) dirty.  “What’s the use of wearing gloves? You’ve got to FEEL the soil!”  said my mother.

Working some soil. Planting some seeds. And always being in awe of the miracles along the way.