I remember all those springs of our growing-up days on the Oak Park farm. Mom would get Dad off one of his Minneapolis Moline tractors to dig up the soil and run vertical hay bale string from ground to the top of the wall on the east side of his shop.

 

Then, she planted, as she always had, her favorite flowers - Morning Glories.

 

Over the next months, they would stretch up to the sun, glowing in the morning mist. The blues were so very blue.

 

Mom wasn’t the biggest on flowers, but she had her share of little patches around the yard. She loved Moss Roses. She also loved cannas. And Marigolds. 

 

And Zinnias, too.

 

I did the hoeing.

 

Fast forward to Mothers Weekend of 2016. The mercury hit 80 Friday and it is time my yard took on a little color.

 

Probably 20 hanging baskets - I go for Pansies and Geraniums. “Old stuff,” some might note, but they weather the weather better than most.

 

And the colors?

 

My everyday colors are blues and greens. But in the spring a different personality appears. I like the pinks, yellows and reds. Won’t find those colors anywhere else but in my flower pots.

 

Mix in a bunch of dahlias and spikes and German ivy, well, several kinds of ivy.

 

All the potting becomes is three to four-evening job. But in the end, there is an array of colors and shapes that are necessary for the season.

 

May is so good. Life began in April, but May brings out the colors. And they are there for us to enjoy until the first heavy freezup in October.

 

Back to Mom.

 

Ethel Selma Evangeline Peterson Meyer, the best mother I ever had; the best mother I could have wished for.

 

She died far before her time at the age of 70 Feb. 5, 1986.

 

But her Morning Glories I won’t forget. Nor will the batch of flowers she put together for me to earn a Blue Ribbon at the Benton County Fair in 1959.

 

I suspect she’s still doing Moss Roses and Morning Glories up there.

 

In between sets at Heavenly Gethsemane Lutheran Church choir practice.