One of the things I can tell you about mom is that she is the reason we have a garden . Mom’s answer to life’s concerns is a broom or a rake; and when she and dad came to live with me in the spring of 2001 she had a major concern. In the 2 previous years mom began loosing dad to deteriorating health and as a consequence her beloved cottage in central Ontario. She then lost her ability to care for dad and thus her condo and so her independence. She was trying and failing to live with my sister and her chaotic family when I brought her west, removing her from the ‘ground’ she’d been rooted in for 85 years.
For no apparent reason I put an addition on my house the fall of ’99 and as things go my front yard was still a gravel pit when she arrived. As soon as she could she was out raking the gravel. I was forced to work with her. At first I tried to do other things while she raked but every few minutes I’d hear, “Doug, come and help me with this rock”. As you can see I did manage to do some other things but mainly we raked, dug, wheeled and dumped until the entire yard was cleared of rocks to the depth of a shovel and we had a pile of rocks (another story).
The plants have been in a year now. Except for the occasional sad attack there is no evidence of deep concern and mom's efforts have created a little piece of ‘heaven’, just what angels do.