Hanging Basket #ShadowshotSunday

In the United States, where I live, Mother's Day is celebrated on the second Sunday in May.

Last Sunday was the day.  My son always gifts me with a hanging basket.

This year he gifted me with the large basket above, filled with fuchsias.  I hope I can get to see hummingbirds visiting it.  I also hope I can keep it alive.  It's large!

Joining Lisa at This and That: A Blog, for her #ShadowshotSunday.

Mothers, Lilacs, and Shadows #ShadowshotSunday

Today, May 11, is Mother's Day in the United States.

It's somewhat a tradition for me to blog about lilacs and roses (or even lilacs and geraniums) on Mother's Day.  It's also Shadowshot Sunday, brought to us by Lisa at Lisa's Garden Adventures, and today's photo is of a red azalea I saw yesterday while out walking.

But wait, there's more.  Permit me a walk down Memory Lane.

There are the lilacs in my yard, which share a common border with two neighbors.

When the lilacs bloom, I think of my mother, who passed away in the mid 1960's.  We did not have any lilacs in our yard.  In fact, we did not have a yard.  I grew up in a small apartment in a Bronx (part of New York City) city housing project.

My Mom did what she could.  She grew red geraniums on our most sunny windowsill, and snake plants on another windowsill.

Mom loved a talcum powder called Lilacs and Roses. This was made by a company called Lander, whose address is given as New York City but it's possible some of their products were manufactured in Binghamton, New York, where I worked for many years.  

So we were so happy when we bought a house back in the 1980's here in the Triple Cities of the Southern Tier of New York.  The yard, we discovered, had two lilacs.  This is one of them.  It's so tall now you would need a ladder to cut most of the flowers.  

The neighbors in this house when we moved in next door are both deceased now; one of their daughters now lives in the house after years of it being a rental.  I love that the house is still in their family.

The other neighbor's white lilac has expanded into our yard.  We don't mind at all.

And we planted the light purple lilac above ourselves.  

These are flowers that bring back memories for me.  I owe a lot to my mother, who died when I was 12, and to those in my life that became substitute mother, especially two of my aunts and the mother of my best friend.  May they all rest in peace and I can only hope they are in a place full of flowers and sunshine.

I recognize that today isn't a happy day for all women.  Not all of us knew our Moms at all. Not all of us knew our Moms for that long.  Not all of us had good Moms.  Some of us are young mothers totally exhausted from the duties that come with babies and young children. Some of us struggle to keep our families together.  Today should honor all of us.  

I hope you have a wonderful Sunday, no matter your situation today.

Every November 9

Part of this post was originally published in November of 2015.  A fellow blogger inspired me to rerun it with some changes and edits.

It is a common meme for bloggers to give advice to their younger selves.

Today, 58 years after my mother died during the 1965 Northeast blackout, I would love nothing better to reach out to a 12 years old girl who had just been through one of the most traumatic nights of her life.  Me.

Back in 2015,  I blogged about a blackout, which affected some 30 million people in Canada and the Northeastern United States on November 9, 1965. (Note, some of the links in that post may be dead).  One of my commenters on that post asked if my Mom had died because of the blackout.  I don't think so, although it may indirectly have contributed.

My mother had not been feeling well that day, and had come close to calling my father at work and asking him to come home.  But she didn't.  As a result, when the lights went out about 5:27 pm, my father was on a New York City subway, one of some 800,000 riders in transit that evening.  He didn't get out on the street until about 10:30 pm.

My Dad had to wait on a long line for a pay phone to call home.   (If you are wondering why the phones worked, it was simple - these were true landlines, in 1965, and worked independently of the power grid.).

It was too late by the time he reached us. 

My father, eventually, did make it home.  Only as an adult, and later, as a mother, did I ever think of the trauma he went through that night and in the days and weeks later.  He had the added responsibility of having to raise me alone, in addition to losing the wife he loved.  

It's sobering to realize that most all of the adults I interacted with during the blackout (and the people in those historic pictures) are now dead or elderly.  

Today, it's still hard for me to blog about that night.  But one thing my Mom installed in me was my love of growing things.  Even though my Mom only had  the space on her apartment windowsill to grow her beloved houseplants, I still remember the trees in the housing project I grew up in.

Pictures taken October 26, 2023

I wonder if any of the trees in my childhood housing project (not these!) that witnessed the blackout are still alive.  I actually went on Google Maps yesterday to look at where I grew up, so long ago.

Returning to what the senior me would tell that 12 year old girl, it is simple:

"Dear 12 year old me, who spent years blaming herself for her mother's death, you were not responsible.  You can't put responsibility on yourself for your mother's illness, or the events of that night.  But children, and in many ways you were still a child on that night, think in ways different than those of adults.  One day, you will know that. "

Even now, it is hard for me to write about the events of that night and how they changed me forever.  Instead, I will turn to a book called Motherless Daughters - The Legacy of Loss by Hope Edelman. As it happens, the therapist I eventually saw in my 40's was herself a motherless daughter, and knew this book would help me.  In some ways, it was like the book had been written just for me.  In fact, it was written as a result of hundreds of interviews with motherless daughters.  Daughters like me.Ms. Edelman said, in the book:

“When a daughter loses a mother, the intervals between grief responses lengthen over time, but her longing never disappears. It always hovers at the edge of her awareness, prepared to surface at any time, in any place, in the least expected ways.”

In some ways, I envy those who have had their mothers all these years.  I never got to know my mother as an adult.  I suspect that my teen years would have been extremely stormy with her.  I sometimes wonder how different my life would have been.  Her hopes for me were not what I wanted to do with my life.

As Ms. Edelman also said:  “I truly believe that the death of my mother has made me the way I am today. I am a survivor, mentally strong, determined, strong willed, self-reliant, and independent. I also keep most of my pain, anger and feelings inside." It took me years to learn the lesson that sometimes you just have to reach out for help.  But still, I am a bit of an over planner - I tend to have plans A, B, C and D where others may be lucky to come up with a plan B.  I know this is a trait of motherless daughters.

I had a lawyer write my first will when I was in my 30's, before I even had a child.  How many women in their 30's write a will?

Getting back to what I would also say to the 12 year old me, how about this:  "You are a good person. Be good to yourself.  Be kind to yourself when you are feeling low. You can't control many things in life.  But you are stronger than you think.  You are capable of great things. Your life ahead will be full of adventure, happiness, but also more great sadness and hurt.  But you will get through it all."

 Sending love now to my 12 year old self.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

Mothers Day 2022

At my age, the people I know tend to have either mothers in their 80's or 90's, needing increasing amounts of care, or have mothers who died in recent years.

I'm not one of them.  My Mom died, suddenly, in 1965.

I also know there are people out there who never knew their mothers, or who had relationships with them that were abusive, painful, or otherwise not one to celebrate.  You can call us all, those who lost mothers through death, or those who lost mothers through lack of mothering, motherless daughters, and Mothers Day can be painful for us. Today, I honor us all.

Also, I must honor those who aren't mothers, but have acted in that role: teachers, siblings, aunts/uncles, cousins, fathers, friends.  My father raised me after my Mom passed away, and had to be both mother and father to me.  One of my aunts became, in some ways, a second mother to me, as did a childhood friend and her mother.

Today, Mother's Day in the United States, I also want to blog a little about my mother.

What would I have thought of my Mom if I had known her in my adult years? I don't know. 

I know that she passed on her love of reading to me.  She nourished it, much as she nourished the geraniums and mother in law tongue plants she grew on her windowsill.  She loved Lilacs and Roses talcum powder but my lilacs aren't open yet.  In fact, I lost one to a snowstorm almost two weeks ago.

But I do have geraniums.

In a way, I follow in her footsteps, except I have a small yard to grow things in instead of an apartment in a New York City housing project.

Here are some of my flowers in bloom today.

 Brunneria.

Lungwort.

A small tulip.

Tulips, grape hyacinths, and daffodils. The kissing statue was my late mother in law's.  To the right of the statue, a Japanese tree peony is readying its bloom (its foliage is red/brown right now).

You might be proud, Mom, that I grow some plants from Thomas Jefferson's home in Virginia. Among them is this wood poppy.  I also have blackberry lilies, which are just now coming up.

Fringed tulip.

And, finally, a heart for you.

I know you would be happy that I am writing, which I am, when I blog daily.

Once again: happy Mothers Day to mothers, or those who act in the role of mothers.  

Lilacs and Roses Mothers Day 2021 Edition

 It's somewhat a tradition for me to blog about lilacs and roses (or even lilacs and geraniums) on Mother's Day, to honor my late mother.

When the lilacs bloom, I think of my mother, who passed away in the mid 1960's.  We did not have any lilacs in our yard.  In fact, we did not have a yard.  I grew up in a small apartment in a Bronx (part of New York City) city housing project.

She loved a talcum powder called Lilacs and Roses. This was made by a company called Lander, whose address is given as New York City but it's possible some of their products were manufactured in Binghamton, New York, where I worked for many years.  (I haven't had time to do the research). 

Taken May 6

I've loved lilacs for many years.  My first house had a lilac bush, and the place I live in now has a couple.  They are close to being in full bloom now.

I used to have a climbing rose but no longer do.  So instead, these roses from Cutler Botanic Garden (taken in 2019) will have to stand in.

I used to get the Jackson and Perkins (a rose retailer) catalog in the mail when I was growing up in that small Bronx apartment.  I would look at those roses and dream I would own a rose bush one day.  Maybe a Tropicana rose?  Maybe a Peace?

Thank you for everything you did for me, Mom, in our short time together on Earth.

And happy Mothers Day to all the mothers and people who act in the role of mother, all over the world.

Mothers Day in the Time of Coronavirus

Needless to say, this is a different Mother's Day.

My son came by.  I haven't seen him since mid-March, although we have texted and spoken on the phone.  We chatted, keeping social distance, outside my house, and with both of us wearing masks.  He brought by a few groceries (strawberries, salad, and a few other goodies), and left them on the porch with three basil plants.

And, he gifted me with a hanging basket.

He spoke about possibly getting chickens (he lives in a rural area) and being able to go in with a neighbor for some beef.  And about the garden he is intending to tend for 90 year old neighbors, in return for some produce.   The woman, I know, has been like another grandmother to him. He has no grandparents left.

It made me think about all the mothers out there, whether they are biological mothers, adoptive mothers (like several women I know), teachers, health care workers (like the daughter of a co worker, who works in a neonatal ICU in the Bronx), and more.

This is for you.

My mother, who passed away many years ago, was alive for the 1918 pandemic.  She never spoke of it but I wonder how much of it stayed with her. 

Near where I live now

When I think of my Mom, I think of lilacs, which aren't in bloom yet, but I also think of crab apple blossoms.  There was a crab apple tree right outside the apartment building where I grew up.

May all the mothers in our lives have a Happy Mother's Day, and, next year, may we all be able to touch or have dinner together with our loved ones.

How Did Sam Know?

I have a story for today which I am repeating from last year.

My 90 year old mother in law, whom I've blogged about from time to time in the almost ten year history of this blog, passed away a year ago today.

It was the day after the American Thanksgiving, the day we call "Black Friday". It's a major shopping day.  We were up early.

Before we got the call, we had decided to treat ourselves to a "Black Friday" breakfast out, something we used to do a lot but stopped doing except for special occasions.

This is where we decided to go a year ago today.

The "Greek House" (which serves a lot more than Greek food) has been owned by an Egyptian everyone calls Sam for the past 26 years.  It has been through two floods, the second of which closed it for a couple of months. Meantime, a large manufacturer across the street's building was ruined by that flood and had to move four miles or so down the road.  But the Greek House survived.

One day last year, a sign appeared in their window.

It's hard to see above, but it reads "Thank You to our loyal customers who have kept us in business for 25 years, and thanks to our loyal staff. We couldn't have made it without you.  Sam."

Now, when we have eaten here, the plates the food was served quickly, on were normal restaurant plates.  In fact, my spouse and his brother ate breakfast there together several months ago, and nothing was unusual.

Not a year ago around 7:15 AM.  In fact, the normally fast service wasn't there.  We waited and waited.

When our food was served, each of our plates was decorated on the rim, in big bold script, with the word MOTHER.

In faint lettering, there were various traits of the ideal mother listed.  Loving.  Patient. Kind.  Compassionate.  And so forth.

MOTHER....

It was so strange that I almost took a picture of the plate and my food, but decided not to.  Now I wish I had. Maybe you don't believe me but this is 100% true.

We finished our breakfast and went home.

And, not five minutes after entering our house, we got the phone call from the nursing home.

I'm still wondering, even a year later: 

How did Sam know?

Local Saturday - The Anniversaries

November 9.

In 1620, those aboard the Mayflower see land (Cape Cod).

In 1862, Union General Ulysses Grant bars Jews from southward travel - perhaps a precursor to the infamous General Order 11 on December 17 of that year.

In 1921, Albert Einstein won the Nobel Prize in Physics.

In 1923, the second day of the Beer Hall Putsch, a failed attempt of the Nazi Party to seize power in Munich.  But history didn't count the Nazis out, no, far from it, leading up to....

In 1938, Kristallnacht, the Night of Broken Glass.

In 1960, John Kennedy is elected President.

In 1965, the Great Northeast Blackout, extending into November 10, during which my mother passed away.

Kings of Freedom, University of Virginia, Berlin Wall Fragment

In 1989, the Berlin Wall came down.

It's strange, thinking that historical events seem to favor certain dates.

My lawn, November 9, 2019

But this year, at my house, it was calm, as winter had collided with Fall Thursday night and Friday.

Fall is trying to reclaim itself.

But watch out for history.

RIP to my mother, who helped encourage my love of learning and writing.   It took me a long time to realize that her death shaped me, in ways it took me years to understand.  I was a motherless daughter.

And that, too, is part of the legacy of November 9.

Mother's Day 2019

 Yesterday, in stores, cashiers kept telling me, "Happy Mother's Day".   For many it will be.  Tomorrow, my one child, who is in his late 20's, will come over to help put air conditioners in, do some other chores for me and his father, and have a home-cooked dinner (by my spouse).

This is the first Mother's Day ever without his Mom for my husband; his 90 year old mother passed away last year the day after Thanksgiving.  He watched his mother, who raised four children (one of them autistic), turn into a frail woman who needed oxygen 24/7, and eventually could not get out of bed on her own. 

His last living aunt passed away on Wednesday at age 107.  One of her two sons predeceased her - two weeks after my mother in law died.

Do you want to know something strange?  Last year, as my mother in law spent her last months in a nursing home, I kept seeing butterflies.  Even this January, when I was down in Florida, I kept seeing butterflies.

This spring, I keep seeing cardinals.  In fact, as I wrote this blog post yesterday, (sitting in the back yard) I saw one briefly.  And, earlier this week, the day after my husband's aunt died, I dreamed that I was sitting in my house and a black bird flew over to me, as a pet bird might.  I was so delighted as the black bird started to play with me.  I felt the type of love, right in my dream, that I would feel for a pet.  It's been years since I've had a pet, though. (Long story).

So who knows?   Maybe I'm being told not to be so sad.

I am reminded, though, of all the people for whom Mother's Day is a day of hurt and/or sadness.  One of them may be you, or someone you know.

Be gentle to people day.  You don't know what feelings today triggers in them.

To everyone in my life who has had a mother, or is/was a mother, or who acts as a mother to a child, I wish you the happiest of days today.

Potpourri and Rediscovering Yourself

I've been thinking a lot lately of things I used to do years ago.

It all started when a co worker brought in a couple of boxes full of gardening books. Her daughter was downsizing.  The books were free for the taking.

I started to look through them, although I have too many books myself.  Yes, dear reader, nowadays I can agree there is such a thing as too many books.

As I browsed the books, my memory traveled back years.  It went back over 30 years, to a time when I lived in rural Arkansas.  This was before the Internet, smartphones and social media.  And, before my energy levels started to go down.  Before the years where I was helping to take care of my aging mother in law.  Before the years where there weren't enough hours in the day, or when I had a young child and a full time job, or...........

My memory went back to a time when I made potpourri.  A time when I started flowers and herbs from seed. True, I owned 34 acres of land, so I had lots of room for gardens (I had two, an upper garden and a lower garden) and rose bushes.  The climate was warmer than where I live now in upstate New York, and I even had basil reseed itself.  Imagine that.

Now everything is rushed, and I spend hundreds of dollars at local nurseries.  I can't do that for much longer.  I am 66, and retirement is out there somewhere, waiting for me.  (Not yet.  But it is looming).

Today, as we had a break in our rainy weather, I looked around my yard, and also visited a local nursery.  This is the result.

Three scented geraniums - pinewood, strawberry, and rose.

Thyme and Greek Oregano.  Both winterkilled (this last year was not kind to all my plants although some have thrived just a bit too well.)

In my shade yard, I found sweet woodruff blooming, which I had planted many years ago.  On the side of the house, the lilacs are starting to bloom. 

Lemon Balm

There's lemon balm in my yard.  We just replanted rosemary.  This is a plant that must be overwintered indoors, and only one of three plants made it through this winter.

You know what?  I took some of those books home with me.  I am finding time to browse through them.  It's time to return to my roots.

It is my Mother's Day gift to myself.

Also, please join me Wednesday for Garden Bloggers Bloom Day, where I might speak more on the topic.

Butterflies as Omens?

This has been a strange summer.  I will see butterflies in the summer, but have never had much success in photographing them.  This year, I can almost swear they are following me around.

Today, yet again, a monarch butterfly fluttered by towards the end of the exercise walk my spouse and were taking.  In the other direction, a woman and a young girl paused, but then walked on. 

I stopped, feeling the butterfly would land near me.  It's been that kind of year.

I was right.  It landed by the side of the path.

I inched closer.  iPhones don't zoom well (at least the older ones don't) but I decided to do a zoom.  I bent down, although my back immediately went on Red Alert.

And then I patiently waited for it to spread its wings again,

and was rewarded.

I know that some consider butterflies as omens.  Some believe butterflies are an omen of change (not always good change) and some believe orange butterflies, in particular, signify a change or an opportunity to come.  Others believe loved deceased ones use butterflies as a tool to communicate with us. 

My mother in law's health has been declining all summer, and I don't know if this and the butterfly visits are at all coincidence.  I'm not spooked, just a bit intrigued.

So...coincidence?  Or not?

Heavenly Sky #SkywatchFriday

On Monday, my mother, had she still been alive, would have turned 100.

How did the skies in upstate New York look on that special day?

A couple of hours after sunrise - loved that streak of blue in between clouds.

And later that day, as rain threatened, so did the sky.  Yet, that glint of sun looked so...full of hope.


Join Yogi and other bloggers who watch the sky each Friday at #SkywatchFriday

The Mothers Of My Life

This is an updated Mothers Day post from 2009.

On this Mothers Day I want to pay tribute to five women who helped make me into the person I am today.

The first person was my mother, who died too soon and too young. She was a stay at home mother who, I know, wanted to be in the workplace but the times (the early 1960's) did not support that. Instead, she became the mother that the neighborhood children would call for treats. Yes, call. We lived on the fourth floor of an apartment building in the Bronx. When we would play, and got hungry, we would gather under the window and yell in unison "Mom!" Somehow she always knew "Mom" meant her and not one of the other 130 Moms in the building. Well, OK, sometimes we had to yell for a few minutes. But soon, a bag would be dropped out the window for all of us to share.

Mom was so very proud that her English skills were such that she had gotten a job meant only for college graduates. She graduated from high school and never went further in her education. She had been a contest judge for a famous organization and I used to love to hear her tales about that. She had also studied to be a dental hygienist, and still had one of her textbooks. It was way too hard for me and I was amazed that she could have studied from it.

When I was 10 years old, I broke my leg. As my sixth grade class was on the fourth floor of my elementary school, and there were no elevators, the school sent a home instructor to my apartment for the two months I was out of school. As it happened, the teacher grew up in the the same neighborhood as my mother and they would have coffee and chat as I worked on my studies.

One Friday morning in November my mother left me to go shopping. When she returned, she was crying. She turned the TV on and that is how I found out about the assassination of John Kennedy.

In the last years of her life, rheumatoid arthritis stole much of her mobility and left her so exhausted that she would lie on the couch. She was so very depressed, too but I was too young to understand. I would rub her feet and help her feel better. I would go to the market with her and do the shopping while she sat in the front of the store.

My Mom loved lilacs - too bad the neighborhood lilacs aren't quite open yet

The second mother was the mother of a good friend from school. After my mother died, "Mrs. F" showed me how to use a washing machine, how to open cans (would you believe I didn't know how!!) and so much more, and kept an eye on me. More than once, after I grew up, she asked me to call her by her first name but I never could bring myself to do so.  I had great respect for this strong woman and Holocaust survivor.  "Mrs. F" passed away in 2013. She was in her 90's.

The third mother was an aunt and my Dad's "kid sister", who lived in Tampa, Florida for most of her adult life. In many ways she stepped in to fill the huge hole the death of my mother created in my life. I visited her (from my native New York City) three times during my teen years. She showed me and taught me many of the things that my mother would have shown me if she had been alive. My Aunt died young, from pancreatic cancer.  This past January, I was fortunate in being able to visit both of her children, who still live in Florida.

The fourth mother was an aunt who lived out in Iowa.  After I married and moved out to the Midwest, I became close to her. She was one of the most understanding, and most accepting people I have ever met. I list her fourth but in many ways the mark she left on me was second only to my own natural mother.

The last mother is my mother in law.   She is 90 now.  Sadly, she has dementia and also is in declining health.  She is a three time cancer survivor and the mother of a man with autism. My brother in law was born years before autism was something discussed in the daily news.

My mother in law was one of the generation of women who did not institutionalize her son and tried to make as normal a life for him as she could while he was growing up. The parents of children with autism today owe a lot of gratitude to women like my mother in law, who "made it up" as they went along, without support, without understanding.

We all will be visiting her today, the last of my five "mothers" still alive.

My mother in law loves flowers, too - picture taken at local nursery on Friday

Happy Mothers Day to all mothers, and to these mothers in my life.

Do you have any mothers in your life?

Mom and Me

Mother's Day tends to be a little bittersweet for me.  My Mom died when I was 12 years old.  I do not have many photos or other keepsakes of her. 

Recently I took a picture of a photo taken by someone of my Mom and me (with other students) at an elementary school event. 

My Mom loved the smell of lilacs.  In her honor, I present a little bouquet of our lilacs that my spouse picked for me today.

Happy Mothers Day to all mothers, be they mothers who gave birth, mothers who adopted, mothers of children who have passed on, and women who never raised children but nurtured, educated and/or and cared for the children of others.

Happy Birthday At Last

I haven't blogged for a while about "B", my brother in law with autism.

He has a November birthday, and last year it didn't go as planned.

His mother was in rehab, after a hospitalization for pneumonia.  The plan was for us to bring "B" to the rehab place on his birthday last November, have a nice visit, and then take him to our house for a small birthday dinner.

"B" loves to eat at the Olive Garden (a chain Italian restaurant here in the United States).   Some people put chains down, and I would rather eat at a local restaurant (support your local business is one of my mottos.) I will also admit that some chains (including the Olive Garden) do a great job of listing nutritional content.  I look for calories and sodium.  They also do a good job of pointing out allergens in their food.  So this would have been a good choice.

But with his Mom in rehab, we told Bil "why don't we wait until she is out?". She was supposed to get out in a couple of more days.  He agreed.

The visit went well, until it didn't go as planned.  His Mom fell.  On her back.  Help came immediately, and she didn't seem to be hurt (except for her dignity).  But they couldn't take any chances, because she had hit her head on the floor.

We spent the rest of the day in the ER, where we waited for her to get a CT scan.  The results were normal.

Thankfully.

While "B" sat there, I wonder what he thought.  He doesn't talk that much, and he never did say. 

This year, we are hoping for a much less eventful dinner.

Sometimes, uneventful is good.

It will be a good time to pause, before plunging into The Holidays.

Day 13 of NaBloPoMo.

Isn't It Good Syroco Wood #CherishedBlogfest

Welcome to my entry to the Cherished Blogfest, a three day event where participants blog about our most cherished item. (A full list of participants can be found here).

My mother has been dead for 50 years.  I was 12 when she passed away suddenly.

One of my most cherished memories was when, as a young child, she allowed me to dust her knickknacks.  We had a steam radiator in our living room and she had had, a great extravagance for her perhaps (my parents were never affluent) a covering built for the radiator.  On either end, she had knickknack shelves.

I would take each knickknack off carefully, dust the shelf, and dust the knickknack.

Fast forward many, many years.

I don't have much that belongs to my mother.  That is why I cherish what I am about to show you as one of my most valued possessions.

Front

Back

It is a set of salt and pepper shakers.  Researching online, I found it is a set of "1940's Syroco Wood" Salt and Pepper shakers.

Reading even further I found out more about "Syroco Wood", which I will save for another blog post.  It was amazing, considering that these items may have been made only around 70 miles from where I have lived for nearly 30 years.  They are cracking, but so far, still all in one piece. I'd love to know how to take good care of them.

I will never know where my Mom picked this item up - perhaps in a souvenir shop in Ohio (in the left back, it looks like "OH 1/49")?  I know my Mom and Dad never had much of a honeymoon but perhaps they made it all the way from New York City to Ohio.

The pieces are cracking but may be in good shape, considering they may have been made sometime between 1949 and ? (I was born in 1952).  They aren't worth much (one Etsy dealer is selling these for $18. U.S.) but I don't care.


To me, they are priceless.

The Cherished Blogfest #CBF16

 Hosted by: Dan Antion / Sharukh Bamboat / Damyanti Biswas / Mary Giese /
Peter Nena / Cheryl Pennington / Kate Powell 

Music Monday - Mothers Day Plus One

Today, a short post, as I rest after Mother's Day. It was a nice family day, spent with my brother in laws, sister in law,  mother in law, spouse, and son.  It was nice that my sister in law was able to travel to see us.  Everything came together well except that we forgot to serve the chocolate covered strawberries (sorry!) my spouse made.

But Mother's Day is always a bittersweet time for me.  My mother passed away over 50 years ago, weeks before I officially became a teenager.  That event has colored the rest of my life.  And now, seeing the mothers of acquaintances and co workers nearing the ends of their lives, it has become even more bittersweet.

Violets - Best year for them I've ever seen

Winter is approaching for our mothers, and its chill makes us, their adult children and caregivers, shiver in the knowledge that we are looking at our future selves.

Here's to mothers everywhere and for their children.

A wish by a mother for her child.  "My Wish" by Rascal Flatts

Beautiful, except I have no idea who sings it.

Now, more in my favorite musical styles:  First, a message no mother ever wants to hear, in one of my favorite songs ever.   "Bohemiam Rhapsody" by Queen.

"Mama, I'm Coming Home" - Ozzy Osbourne.

And now, onward to a new week.

Sunday Surprises - Happy Mothers Day

No surprise to regular readers of my blog.  I, with the help of my guest photographer, are about to post some beautiful flower pictures for you.  Enjoy, whether you are a mother, were born of a mother, or care for children, or teach them.

My mother loved to grow things on her Bronx windowsill, including beautiful geraniums.  I dedicate this post.  This will be my 51st Mother's Day without her.

Crabapple tree.

Jonquils.  These smell so nice.

West Side Binghamton, New York

Crabapples.

Broome County Public Library, Binghamton, NY

I'm told these are black cherries.  They smell like honey.

My back yard

Brunneria.

Rural railroad tracks Broome County, NY

Flowering plum.

Last, but not least, dogwood.

Now that you have enjoyed, go out and make a mother (you, or someone else) happy.