She didn't know why her family always celebrated her birthday on May 28th. It wasn't until she returned to college to get her Masters and teaching credential that she announced her real birthday was December 5th.
Now that mom is gone, the date of birth is unimportant. Her legacy of how to live is.
Mom would want us to remember is to live to the words, "Love Blooms Here."
Some things can be planned. The rose Sexy Rexy anchoring this border definitely was chosen to be where it is. However, imagine the image without the serendipity welcomed. The scene would have color; yet be sterile.
The puffs of Valerian peaking through the rose "Sexy Rexy" showed up one day, a gift from the God of birds. Dainty-appearing Feverfew was a gift of my imagination. Walking through South Coast Botanical Gardens, I admired their delicate blossoms and imagined them in my garden. That was all it took; I never bought any- the soles of my shoes must have snuck some seeds out. They are likely to pop up wherever water, sun and soil mingle.
In the mid 1990's my mother's health and safety required she move from her beloved garden. To help her adjust, I dreamed up turning a wrought iron garden arch in to a canopied headboard. The scroll work is heavier than it looks. Much heavier. It was carefully anchored to the wall so no earthquake or reaching for balance, it could not crush her.
Sunday, this garden arch, now iconic of my mother's love for the garden, will serve as part of the alter for her memorial service.
Roger McClain will serve as chaplain. Senator Bob Huff will say a few words. Manny Chavez will handle music and audio. Airport pickups coordinated to ETA's. Gerry has spent every waking moment not at work or asleep turning beautiful little mini urns as mementos for significant loved ones.
Not everything is planned. Set decorations are now in the hands of nature.
What is important is the family will be as mom wants. Together.
Top image by Gene Sasse. Used with permission.
Bottom image is of Trevor Plunk.