The first Sunday in April, after church, Becky and Jennifer came for dinner. Later, we did our walking and then went to see mom. It was such a perfect day we went out and took mom for a long ride to enjoy the spring flowers and shrubs. The pink crabapple blossoms, mixed in with our native redbuds were a canopy for the azaleas, cardinal bushes and forsythia. On the next level the daffodils, hyacinths, creeping phlox, and tulips were just some of the many colors and textures to enjoy.

Mom had done a lot of flower gardening in her life but more after she was widowed and had more time for such things. I could see her often times in the early morning slowly walking around her yard to see the latest blooms that were offered. She fed the birds and squirrels and had a nice little sanctuary for them. I followed in her steps and learned how to transplant or to divide and replant. Over the years it pays off when they mature and begin blooming. It takes patience to be a gardener. You are planting for the future bloom that you know will be somewhere down the road when they come into the fullness that God created them for.

Bear didn’t like yard work when we first married. Our second year, we moved where we are now to be of help to my aging parents and because dad had cancer. For someone who didn’t like yard work, Bear was slapped in the face with a horrendous challenge for any one who tackles landscaping. The Ozarks is especially difficult to grow anything except rocks, hard clay soil, and spouts. No matter how many times you cut spouts away from a tree stump they will continue to grow and you will continually have to cut them back. An oak tree will drop acorns and there will be a million more sprouts springing up. Now if you perchance dig a hole and plant a healthy tree from the nursery……..you will have your hands full trying to keep it alive. Nature is hard headed and prefers her own way of doing things. She will decide what will grow and what won’t.

We moved in August, the most miserable month in south Missouri. The humidity, heat, ticks, mosquitoes and flies make outdoor projects difficult to say the least. Dad had spent the summer hacking out sprouts and tilling as much as he could to clear the lot for the mobile home we purchased. When we arrived it was necessary to get the yard ready to sow grass. Bear picked up rocks from the front for weeks and piled them into a diagonal wall across the back yard. It was dad’s idea to keep our dirt from washing down the hill after it had been plowed. It was back breaking work but it made a beautiful wall and good place to begin my flower garden.

Since our yard has different slopes and slants it was fun to create the eventual way it would be planted. We had a few of the oaks cut out that were misshapen or small and close together. Then the work began on the lawn. Eventually, it took on the look of the grassy lawn we had hoped for and Bear dreaded mowing. With a half acre in grass now it was quite a job with our push mower. It wasn’t until he lost his leg ten years into our marriage that yard work took on a whole new meaning for him. Now it was a challenge and therapy for the missing leg. He was relentless in his efforts to manage the mowing himself.

He walked with his crutches and had the mower handle pressed against his stomach. He would then walk along pushing the mower in this manner until at the end of the row he shifted one crutch to the other arm, turned the mower and then did another swipe across the yard. He continued mowing in that manner until the yard was finished and well trimmed. It was some years later that he at last gave in to my suggestion he get a riding mower. He never gave in to defeat and eventually would find a way to conquer a problem.

He was never a handicapped person. He was a person missing a left leg who triumphed over adversity……….

Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther