Mothers Day

I was in the garden, covered in mud, weeding, checking the perennials for signs of growth and thinking about planting the flowers I bought the other day, as well as the potaoes which have been languishing, sprouting in my pantry for weeks. Robert came by covered in sawdust. He had been chopping down beetle killed trees and bucking them up for next years firewood. He wanted me to come with him on a search for more firewood.

Driving randomly down roads looking for dead trees that would probably belong to someone anyway seemed like a waste of time.

I also have to get ibufrofun, he said. He has bad knees. Hmmn, I thought, that would mean a trip up to the highway where the mall is and Brother Johns nursery. I was lusting after an apple tree.

Five minutes later, still covered and mud and sawdust, we were both in the truck. I got my apple tree and a white lilac to plant by the back door. It was my suggestion to drive down the road where I got the rocks for the garden last year, to look for potential firewood. Not a lot of people live down that road so it might be easier, I said.

We scored big. Huge pieces of wood I had to wrap my arms around, hug tight and stagger out of the bush with, sinking above my boot tops in snow. Yes it still lurks in the cool spots. I was a bit worried when we balanced the tree on top of the wood for the drive home but it arrived safely.

I came inside to wash the mud off, make dinner and phone my Mum. The first thing she said to me was, Happy Mothers Day. After returning the sentiment. She said, my son Callum and my sister were going over there for dinner. Both of them had already taken her out for her Birthday dinner last week. She thought, even though it was Mothers day, she would make dinner this time. She also said she would remind Callum it was Mothers Day and too give me a call.