The Sisterhood of the Traveling Vase – Mother’s Day

What better time to add a chapter to the adventures of the Sisterhood of the Traveling Vase than Mother’s Day, celebrated here in the States on Sunday, May 13 this year.

The vase has traveled some this past year, filled through the seasons, occasions and just because, but, it had taken a bit of a hiatus until it reappeared once more this weekend at a visit to Jennifer and Jason’s house!

What a pleasant surprise it was to be greeted this Mother’s Day with the latest traveling arrangement! Nestled inside the clear, round vase were small wooden eggs, repurposed from a forgotten display. The eggs helped to hold up stock, Hypericum berries, and glorious calla lilies whose velvety petals added to the allure of the presentation.

Not only was I honored to be the recipient of this sweet arrangement, I was also impressed at my daughter’s floral creativity . . .

. . . and, her culinary flair. Jennifer has always employed an inherently unique ability to put a tasteful array of ingredients together that whet one’s appetite in flavorful bliss. Rosemary coated chicken breasts sat on a bed of sautéed arugula with lighted warmed grapes! Topped with shavings of Gruyère, it was quite delicious.

We ate, we talked, we checked out J & J’s emerging garden, and we visited a nearby gardening center before I headed back home, my vase travelling with securely on the floor of the car. I was sated, content, and grateful for a most “motherly made” afternoon.

The saga of the Sisterhood of the Traveling Vase begins here.

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In the absence of sun

Sunday.

Mother’s Day.

One of those mellow days of love and recognition that seemed to flow slowly and deliberately into a forever memory.

After Sunday worship, we went to Jennifer and Jason’s for brunch. Egg strata, bacon, salad and Mimosa’s. As I sipped and savored, I remembered another Mother’s Day, more than three decades past, where a toddling Jennifer brought me breakfast in bed. On that long ago morning,  I opened my eyes to a wee darling saying “happy Mother’s Day Mommy” as she slowly settled a plate of breakfast in front of me.

I remember it vividly.

A dollop of strawberry yogurt with Cheerios on top, toast, and a few slices of hard salami on the side.

This year; mimosas, egg strata, salad, coffee and Kringles.

On our way home, Tom and I stopped at Lilacia Park in Lombard, where it is lilac time. Though the skies were gray and it was cool, the lilacs and tulips were resplendent.

I took too many photos. Everywhere I looked was color and contrast, statements of nature painted on every stem, beads of moisture clinging to petals and leaves, a concert of color singing all-the-more brightly in the absence of sun. You can imagine my bliss as I tiptoed among the tulips, my indulgent and supportive  husband at my side.

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While standing in line

I was standing in line at the grocery store, a middle aged woman before me, chatting with the checker as her order was tallied. A younger woman, college aged, stood juggling items behind me as I put my own selections down to be scanned.

It was that bewitching hour of half past four. The time of day when shoppers are on their way home from work, going to work on a later shift, picking up forgotten ingredients to make treats for the park district baseball game, or in need a medication at the in-store pharmacy that was finally filled.

I was placing my items on the belt, mentally tallying  the damage to my wallet, when the younger woman quietly queried when Mother’s Day was.

“This coming Sunday.”

A relieved look came to her face.  I could see several greeting cards in her hand. “You still have time”  I prompted, as she audibly sighed. “Are you doing something with your mother this weekend?”.

She shook her head and said “No, my mother is in Italy“. She then proceeded to tell me her mom was on a vacation with friends, having a very good time in Italy. My items rolled closer to purchase.

“The problem is, I don’t know what to get her.” 

Hmmm? While she could conceivably go online and send her mom something that would arrive by Sunday, I imagined a rather exorbitant price to pay in delivery, especially for someone who looked to be on a Ramen noodle diet.

“Does your mom have access to the internet?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you have a friend take a picture and send it to her, wishing her a Happy Mother’s Day?”

A hug followed, right there in the line of the grocery story. The middle-aged woman ahead of me and the cashier smiled, kindred spirits, it seemed, as someone’s daughter, behind me in line,  told me her siblings would be with her at their grandmother’s house on Mother’s Day and she would send them all, via the internet, to her mom, in Italy just as I made my purchase.

Amazing the conversations that occur while standing in line. Have you had any interesting ones lately? What would you have told the young woman?

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Raindrops on roses . . .

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens 
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things!

Rodgers and Hammerstein/The Sound of Music

 There were three, plump, yellow rose blossoms with promises of a Mother’s Day bloom. Alas, the wandering deer thought better of me having a few blooms for Mother’s Day and ate them as appetizers before chomping on what must have been a tasty salad of hosta leaves. Not to be left out, the chipmunks made a meal off of the pansies.

I have no raindrops on roses to show you, nor whiskers on kittens. I did manage a few dew drops on hostas and ferns showing shadows one of the few sunny days we have had.

Sunday is Mother’s Day here in the States, here’s a big thank our mothers.

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Mother’s Day

To all you nest builders out there, Happy Mother’s Day!

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