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Virgina Woolf

Dandelion love

By May 8, 2015 Life

Happy Friday. What’s on deck this weekend?

Our old crabapple tree has refused to answer my fervent wish of blooming this year (still time but I’m impatient) so I’m dragging my crew to Toronto’s High Park to see their celebrated cherry trees instead. Look for us and Lucy in tow, currently getting a spring blow-out at the pet store. I promise pictures for all you dog hounds. For now, you just get this for laughs.

 

Sunday is Mother’s Day here in Canada, as good a time as any to sit and ponder how you got here and who gave you your first kiss on a new cheek.

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Becoming a mother is a joyous blessing. Being a daughter of a strong woman made my job easier.

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As the years of parenting add up, the more I understand.

“For we think back through our mothers if we are women.”

-Virginia Woolf

My mom will sit in my garden with me on Sunday. I plan to freeze the moment and hold fast.  And drink something with her favourite peach schnapps.

To moms everywhere: Don’t throw away the dandelions.

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Heart Flowers

My house is sprouting dandelion bouquets,

small, droopy yellows lend light to dull surfaces.

Plucked with serious intent,

handed over with grins that clear

the tracks of my darkened trail.

Is there any way to resist these creatures

with stained sunshine

on their hands and noses?

“These are for you.”

Doomsday when I cease receiving

these weeds,

when I curse their belligerent patterns on my lawn

and moan about a sore back and a rusty trowel.

Copyright © Anne Langford

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