Dear Sunday Letter friends,
Today I’m send you a quick Mother’s Day message with greetings from Lake Norfork!
I’m at the lake with my mother and sister and niece for a few days. After 56 days of semi-lockdown (and much discussion), we decided to quarantine in a different place for a few days. A cabin in the woods only a 2.5 hours from Fayetteville can magically feel like a world away.
We are being careful and taking precautions. We didn’t stop on the way, and we brought all of our groceries (and sanitizer) with us. Like boy scouts, we are trying to leave no trace, virus or otherwise.
OH HOW WONDERFUL to be back at the lake. Quiet. Serene. A welcomed change of scenery. There’s something about the rhythm of the water, the lull of a creaking wooden dock.
This is our place of endless summer and endless youth, even during early spring when the temperature is too cold for swimming, even when we’ve grown older than we can sometimes believe.
We sit on the porch and hike through the woods, laze about on the dock, and drink wine at sunset.
We play board games chosen from a random stash in a cabinet.
This Garden Game was a new one for us. Look—we’ve been gardening at the lake! Ha.
The butterflies are plentiful during this early springtime. The critters all around, birds and bees and deer and squirrel, have no idea we humans have been living in the Twilight Zone. Once here, it’s easy to forget so many are suffering with loss of job, health problems, death of loved ones. For a few days, I try to forget what’s going on, the problems in our world, the politics, the craziness. At the same time, I don’t want to forget.
I won’t get to see either of my kids this Mother’s Day, but that’s okay. They are happy and well. I’ll talk to them, and I’ll see them soon. (I hope.)
The kids gave me this concrete planter years ago. (Actually John gave it to me from the kids when they were little.) It has lived with us at three different homes in two different states. Every year, I plant something different in it—this year, a stunning coleus with fuchsia and chartreuse leaves.
Three or four years ago, Kelsey and Tate sent me a small potted hydrangea. I planted it beside the side fence, and this spring, it is really beginning to thrive. Crossing my fingers it blooms. Pink or blue? Depends on our soil acidity.
Gifts that keep on giving are always special, right? They come with past and future memories.
A Rose for You
Isn’t this a beautiful rose? I noticed it blooming at the Headquarters House in Fayetteville last week. It was the only blossom on the rosebush—a single rose for Mother’s Day—quietly blooming even though the museum isn’t open. The only people to see it were those of us pulling weeds in the garden beds.
It reminds me of all the mothers who do so much for so many, asking nothing in return.
This rose is for all the mothers everywhere.
It’s for all those who are missing their mothers.
Mothers who have lost a child.
Dads who play the role of mother.
Everyone who nurtures.
Things Momma Says
You know, if you aren’t careful, you can put too much stuff in a salad.
Sunday Letter friends, I hope wherever you are today, you are healthy and safe.
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.