Mother’s Day…

Flowers always lift me up, so do cards and letters but since the advent of digital communication the latter can’t always be relied upon to give me a burst of well-being when I least expect it.

Nature isn’t so fickle, year after year it never ceases to make me gasp as it brightens the stubborn winter days and cheers me up with bursts of colour.

Daffodils would burst through the snow in London and be in full bloom all over the city by mid March for my father’s birthday.

One of the first things I did when I moved into Footlights was to plant bulbs and their pretty, sunny faces popped up in February and made me smile even though it was a cloudy old day.


Imagine my surprise when I came home from mass recently to find  a bunch of flowers on my kitchen table,


with a beautifully written card to boost my spirits.

“Is it really Mother’s Day?” I asked the culprit, Daughts, after reading her words extolling my virtues as her Mum.

“Yes Mum!  In England!”

I had to go and look on my calendar and sure enough, March 6th was ‘Mothering Sunday’ (UK).

“You didn’t know?” She asked.

“Well, I no longer have a reason to remember Mothering Sunday in England,” I explained shaking my head.

She was so proud of herself,

“You mean I was the only one of the four children to remember?”

“Yes you were…”

And a couple of weeks ago on my daily walk another display of blooms gave me a boost during the uncertain days of pre-Spring, this beautiful red-bud doing its thing for a week or two.


Happy Easter!



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