Last Fall, my dad, husband and myself put our collective talents: digging, digging deeper and organizing - in case you were wondering - into full effect to help her create the most intricate (seriously I can't remember what kind of flower) design on their front bank. Each kind bloomed at a certain time and was a specific color. The job fell to me to organize each grouping of plants by blooming season and color so the pattern was never interrupted.
Yes, my mother is a gardener.
I am not. Not even close...I know - it's disappointing, but my high school 'If suzie has three yellow apples and Mike has four pears....' skills do occasionally come in handy - at least.
So, last fall when my mother came to our house with some leftover another flower I couldn't possibly tell you the name of and suggested planting them around the base of Emma's bush - I said, "Sure".
"They may or may not come up" she cautioned, "They like direct sun and its hard to know if they will get enough with her bush being so big at this point."
The fact that I shrugged this off seemed totally appropriate on that day. Looking back, especially with the most recent reaction I had to Emma's bush being loved on by her sister - I realize what a success moment that was. Even a couple years ago the idea of something living being put in her earth with the potential, no probability - of dying, would have put me over the edge.
Sometimes we take big steps without even realizing the size of the footprint we left behind.
But, today - when I strolled past Emma's bush and leaned down to remove brown, crunch leaves for the hundreth time (blast you wind!) I noticed something.
For a non-grower the sight of these two shoots (still - have no idea what they are...sorry) send a burst of love through me.
I don't recall how many she planted - but two is enough, especially since they will bloom right next to her angel.
Here's to big steps - to new life - and to possibilities.