Today is my mother’s 83rd birthday.
I have spoken of her on this blog before. She is, like every human, imperfect. But that does not make her any less amazing and wonderful. She makes the 25 mile trek into town twice a week to voluntarily teach illiterate adults to read and to help people who quit before they were done get their high school equivalency diplomas. She was acknowledged by our community for this work last year, receiving the Hometown Heroes Award at their annual breakfast.
She volunteered during the last political campaign too, and canvassed more than any other volunteer.
I could brag some more, I suppose. For example, in the last couple of years she has built four raised garden beds near her little house, piling concrete blocks for the walls, making concrete to fill the holes, composting, growing and harvesting quite a lot of vegetables. Even though a lot of people would consider her approaching the end of her days, she does not look at the end, but rather at the process of living. And because of that focus, she planted over 100 irises in the borders around her yard, to beautify it for the future.
Happy birthday, Mamma.
It’s a cold one, too. The sun has been up for a couple of hours already, and it is only 20ºF (-6.6°C) out there. I went out looking for images.
Jerusalem artichoke seed head:
Frost flowers on the pond:
Hoarfrost on top of a fence post:
Everybody try to stay warm, okay? I’ve got guests arriving in a matter of hours and I must bestir myself to make ready.