Mayflowers and Mother's Day

Last Sunday May 2nd was a bright, cool day. We planned on a late afternoon trail walk and thought the Confederation Trail in Watervale might be nice to introduce my parents and Maria to but nice could not begin to describe what we experienced.

No sooner out of her car and my dear mother, who agreed to come on the walk only if it wasn't too cold and windy (which I promised it wouldn’t be and which it was) pointed at the ditch and exclaimed at the beauty of the Golden Osier. I was grateful for her pointing it out as I had not ever before noted Golden Osier, only red, which I often commented on roadside and gathered small amounts for winter decorating. The golden gleamed in the ditch like sunshine. Mom too!

Further along I noticed that the trail side embankment clamoured with a growth which was also unfamiliar to me. The leaves of which seemed to cover every square inch of ground on either side.

"What are those leaves mom?" I inquired of her as I stepped down off the trail over the wet ditch and into the low growth of plant life there. Squatting, I reached my hand in under the leaves to clear away some debris and soon found the little blossoms. We both answered at the same time:

"Mayflowers!"

And everywhere; an absolute abundance of these springtime glories climbed all over both sides of the trail in large patches for as far as we could see.

I pulled gently and twisted off two small sections of the vine with flowers to let Maria smell them while mom stayed in the area she had descended to and picked until she felt she had what she would like for her own table: a fistful sized bouquet to share its fragrance in her dining room when she got home with them.

Back on the trail, sniffing deeply and exhaling a hearty springtime sigh, my mother wondered if my grandmother's old neighbour Emma Ann brought Mayflowers to mom's mother's grave yet this year.

"She's done it every year since mom died" mom said to me. "You know she brought a bouquet to her every year" she said again before I could respond.

Indeed I do know this. Emma Ann's simple springtime offering was always so welcome and seemed to arrive on my grandmother's table in her northside kitchen not long after the snow cleared out of the woods in the brief interim before the scourge of black flies and mosquitoes descended.

Welcome indeed; Emma Ann’s kindness, the Mayflowers, not the flies although they too are harbingers of spring.

"You are as welcome as the flowers of May" my grandmother always said to us when we'd say thank you to her for something such as her chocolate oatmeal or lemon squares or one of her delicious homemade rolls-- her expression one of gentle caring and generosity that the glory of those waxy, fragrant flowers spoke to after a long winter.

A little further along my father saw another plant and pointed it out and said "These aren't dandelions, look at these Jill." And this time I knew what they were and he was right. At a quick first glance of their soft yellow head you might think dandelion but indeed they are not.

"It's Coltsfoot, dad." I replied as he pointed out the different leaves and stem.

Lucas spotted a patch on the McInnis Pt Rd several weeks earlier and we looked them up in our plant books when we got home. Neat thing about discovering Coltsfoot in spring is it answered a late summer question I had about these gorgeous, tall, roadside seed heads in late August which look so much like giant dandelion flowers gone to seed. Like dandelions but not. A mystery solved!

We looked at and listened to a couple of playful Yellow-rumped Warblers in the young trees trailside and a Black- capped Chickadee was so curious about my mother’s phishing call that it almost landed on Maria's shoulder.

The wet ditches were filled with great, green, globs of frog jelly and the teeniest of tadpoles which Maria noticed and which made us all wish the littler cousins were with us to delight in her find! As well, the water there was thick with stringy clouds of what mom said she was pretty sure was mosquito larvae. Note to self: this trail is likely not somewhere to traverse in several weeks time once those mosquito hatch but how wonderful their presence here for all the creatures who feast upon them and what a beautiful place to live out a mosquito life.

When we were ready to turn around my dad called for us to walk just a little further so he could get a look at a pine he noted ahead on the trail and indeed the glorious specimen was an Eastern White Pine.

Maria noted Horsetails which I said are a positively ancient plant and my mother piped in that they used to be as tall as trees in times long past which made for great imaginings when looking at the towering pines.

Back near where we parked my dad spied a young willow in the boggy area there. He said if he had a shovel in the trunk he would make Lucas dig it up for him. Mom said dad's the one with rubber boots--he should do the digging. It didn't matter that Lucas was wearing the sneakers he got for his ECMA radio performance at the Delta in May 2019, no one had a shovel.

These have been a lot of describing words for what I could have summed up in fewer. After a long, long winter of not seeing family in person due to health scares and tests and treatments galore, my dear mom made it through to greet spring the way she always does. By looking out for all the wondrous signs that spring is springing up all around us and by being grateful that somehow we've found ourselves with the good fortune to once again bear witness to it all.

When stopped mid trail to look/ listen/ pause I commented how rich a moss patch or some lovely lichen looked and mom stood there, as bright as spring itself and said "It's all so rich Jill, all so rich." And she is so very right!

Having mom (and dad) out exploring with us once again felt as welcome to me as the flowers of May!

With a heart that swells in gratefulness for the ten hundred thousand ways my mom has taught me how to love. For the immensity of wonder she has borne witness to. For the kindness and the generosity she offers without fail. And for never stopping being a curious human, always willing to learn and teach both. I bow in deep thanksgiving to my mom!

Happy Mother's Day to my Dear Mother and to all Mother's everywhere this difficult spring. There is much to be grateful for.

Be well!

xo

Jill