where the writers are
Iris and Celebration Time

 

The young dogwood tree in the front yard is through blooming.  The rosy azaleas by the front walk have been gorgeous for over a week, but I doubt if they last too much longer.  The two bouquets that I picked from their branches have graced the living and dining rooms for a week, and they needed to be replaced today.  Then the front doorbell rang, and a young delivery man handed me a stunning bouquet from Jeannie and the Eilers up in Freeport.   I stop and enjoy the new bouquet on the dining room table every time I walk by.  As usual Country Creations had outdone themselves with this beautiful arrangement. Mother’s Day is just one of the many spring time celebrations going on across the nation.

 

I think most of the area proms are over now.  Last weekend, I enjpyed them vicariously because of  the many postings by proud parents on Facebook.  Are there no homely girls anymore?  I loved seeing all the beautiful young women in their lovely dresses.  I hope they all have good memories to store away for less festive future times in their lives.  We are so blessed to live in a nation where such luxuries are available for our children as they grow up.  I hope teachers, aunts, or other mothers helped any who could not afford a luxurious dress because there are plenty out there in garage sales and thrift stores that can make young women look like the princesses they deserve to be on special occasions.  

 

Now finals are going on and graduations about to begin.  Gma Shirley was going to be at Katherine’s tonight, but it is her granddaughter Sarah’s graduation from Southern Illinois University Carbondale, so I will to take her place at Katherine’s house for the evening until the night aide arrives.  We have one grandchild graduating high school this year, and a couple of neices’ children are graduating.

We spent much of our week focused on the Southeastern Conference softball tourney especially after we won our first game against Louisiana.  After rain delays all day yesterday, we were sitting expectantly in front of the television at l0 this         morning.  Unfortunately, University of Florida (#1 seed in the tourney) beat us 9-5.  The game began with two quick home runs on their part, and we had some moments of disbelief that the Gators might win by the mercy rule—something we have no experience with knowing how to handle.  But we rallied and it took all seven innings for Florida to go on to play for the conference championship tonight.  Next come the regional tourneys.

Our niece Vicki Glasco Escue suggested on Facebook that we share good memories of our mothers. I did not have time to respond when I read her idea, but I did enjoy her memories of  my special sister-in-law Ginger.  Later as I pondered Vicki’s request, I decided one of my favorite times with my mother was when my brother would come home from working Saturdays at the Jonesboro Kroger Store. Dad would be in the living room reading or listening to the radio, I guess.  But Jim and Mother and I would pile on to her bed and listen to Jim’s adventures that day at the store.  I am sure we talked of other things too, but Jim usually had  interesting stories or funny incidents to tell.  We would listen and bond and end the day with warmth and happiness.  

As it has turned out, one of the families he told us about was a large family from one of the best farms in the Mississippi bottoms.  Clyde Treece, the father,  was one of the most successful farmers; and like in many farm families, Mrs. Treece was an excellent cook who knew good meals throughout the week were important to the family’s health and happiness.   Because of the many children, my brother was impressed with their large orders.  (With just three children in our family and no large noonday meal to prepare for, my mother’s orders were small in comparison.)  We liked hearing about that abundance, and I felt like I already knew the family when I married Gerald and found one of those children had grown up and was now my sister-in-law.  Opal inherited her mother’s exceptional cooking ability, and we have enjoyed many good meals at her table.  Her mother’s delicious pies were cherished, and when the family divided personal items after her death, they had an private auction just among themselves and her rolling pin brought a top dollar.

Funny how small things are often our fondest memories.  Mothers worry about wanting to give their children the world, but experience teaches us that love and devotion go further than any material provisions.   So it is that although I have enjoyed first the bed of solid white iris in someone’s yard as I drive into town and a little further up the street a bed of all yellow iris, it is my own bed now rich with buds that I am eagerly waiting to see.  Why? Because they will be purple just like the ones my mother used to grow.  Reckon the first bloom might show up tomorrow?