ramblings from an arkansas farm girl
Roses, hungry and bare,
Of blooms, I fertilized only hours ago.
Saturday’s clouds brought drizzle, an
Even, soaking rain. Sunday morning
Surprise—rose buds smiling in the wind.
“It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
talya
Musical Pairing:
At Brinkley Chapel we all wore roses pinned to our dresses on Mother’s Day Sunday – white if our mother had already passed away and pink or red if our mother was still alive. I really don’t know if this is a tradition everywhere or just at our little church in Arkansas. We had lots of unique traditions there.
Happy Mother’s Day!
Momma ordered a corsage for Nana from the flower shop in Osceola. It was always a white Gardenia, her favorite, the most fragrant of all flowers. I could smell it from a pew away.
Momma wore a red or pink rose corsage with a bit of baby’s breath, but Staci and I were too little to wear big, fancy, store-bought corsages. We ran outside on Sunday morning, getting our shoes wet in the grass, and clipped a tiny pink rose from the bush beside the driveway. Luckily the rosebush was always in full bloom on Mother’s Day, as if it understood the importance of its job.
Momma always told us to pick one of the buds not fully open. If we wore one of the pretty big roses already in full bloom, the petals fell apart before the invitational hymn leaving only a pin and a thorny stem on your dress. No telling what the significance of that might have been.
Nana – Frances Johnson Creecy
Twenty-four years ago, Momma had to start wearing a white Gardenia corsage on Mother’s Day. I still get to wear pink:)
Happy Mother’s Day to all!
