Mother's Day

One summer when I was very small, Mom would make a picnic lunch each day for me and her. We would take it to the end of the lawn, where the bluff overlooked Lake Erie, and sit under the vibrant shade of a big silver poplar. She read to me from Winnie the Pooh, and I almost believed I lived in the Hundred Acre Wood. It is an essential memory of my childhood.

Mom gave me her love of books, nature, music, card games and good food. She never dove into anything with such abandon as I have done, but many of my passions arise from simple joys we used to share.

This hobblebush (Viburnum lantanoides) flowered last week at Lake Fletcher and the cottage she so adores, as do I.