We tempted fate, or at least another snow storm, by heading to Fargo for the Memorial Day week-end.  No snow this time – believe it or not.  Mom had asked if Mark would be willing to help do some yard work.  I didn’t hesitate to confirm, knowing full well that Mark would be thrilled to do it.  On Saturday afternoon we sent Mike and the kids to the park while Mark and I weeded the flower beds and mowed the yard.  I realized there’s a very good reason I never went into business as a hair dresser or landscaper.  I hacked the hell out of the hydrangea bushes trying to get all the old woody stalks down.  The poor things looked like they’d been trampled by elephants when I finished.  Luckily, the new growth should cover my ineptitude thoroughness in a couple of weeks. 

As I stood amidst the flower beds with all the new life sprouting up around my feet, an overwhelming sadness washed over me when I realized that my mom will not be around for another Spring.  She loves those gardens and spent a good part of the winter drawing plans for the next Spring.  She enjoyed countless hours during the summer hanging out on her patio gazing at the gardens, the birds, and animals that came through the yard.  It is her own little sanctuary. 

I treasured every moment I was there even though my hamstrings and back weren’t as thrilled.  I was honored to make the yard beautiful for her and Mike to enjoy once again.

The garden had some blooming bleeding heart plants that drew me in for a whole slew of photos.  How ironic, I thought to myself, that I would be so captivated by a plant whose flower looks like a heart with a tear drop falling from it…