Dirt between my fingers

I got to do something yesterday I hadn't planned on doing. I planted flowers for my mother in her flower pots. She wanted to go to Diamond's to pick up her hanging baskets and while we were there she asked if we could get some flowers to plant. My initial reaction was, "I don't have time to do that today," but I decided I would take time. We picked out blue and yellow pansies and sunshine marigolds, coral geraniums and deep green ferns. My mother's eyes are dimming but she can still see the brilliant colors of the flowers. At her home I gathered up flower pots and dug out last year's dead plants and roots. I ran my fingers through the cool dirt to loosen it up and sunk the root balls of the flowers into the black richness, patting them into the dirt like tucking children into bed.

This simple act of gardening brought joy to me as I tended to her new flowers and joy to my mother as she watched and commented, yet again, on what a wonderful daughter I am to her. I have so many memories of doing things with my mom through the years and this planting of spring flowers dates back to my childhood. Of course back then I watched her plant them, or helped her as she moved along, sinking colorful flowers into many areas of her yard. Five small planters are all we can manage these days but they bring such joy to her in her limited world. I'm glad I took the time.