It’s fully appropriate that Mother’s Day should be in May, when life is regenerating, spring flowers and flowering shrubs are announcing what they are or what they will become, and warmth creeps in.
Yesterday I noticed the Hummingbirds have returned. A pair of them checked out a bright red tulip and fluttered away together. A vivid black and orange Oriole visited the feeder outside the window. I’ve seen them on rare occasions since we’ve been here. I also saw the most beautifully shaded little blue bird enjoying a treat of wild bird seed. Not a blue jay, I know. It’s smaller, about the size of a goldfinch, and vivid blue. Was that a bluebird? I had to look it up. Indeed it was a bluebird. A signal that happiness is on the way? I’m not sure I’ve seen one before. I sure hope he returns.
It’s funny how when I was young, I appreciated my grandma’s love of birds, and the cardinal especially, but I didn’t share her penchant for studying them. I also didn’t share her love of gardening, of growing things, of keeping healthy house plants. I remember Mom saying the same: she didn’t appreciate any of that until she was older. Now my daughter is so highly unimpressed by my tons of flower and bird photos and penchant for amateur gardening. I tell her that may change. She thinks it won’t.
Why is it that so many of us lean toward absorbing nature as we age? For us moms, is it filling a natural need to nurture something growing? My youngest is “adult” age now. My oldest is close to having her degree and moving on with her own life. More and more, I find myself attracted to nurturing plants and watching the birds. And to capturing them in photos as though I can hold them where they are forever that way.
Perhaps the nature nurturing is a way of telling ourselves that all things ebb and flow, come and go, fade and are reborn.
Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers and all who revere their mothers.