For all the gifts you’ve given me
For all I am and strive to be
For every hour of every day
In all I think, or do, or say
For all I know, for all you’ve done
Forever more, I thank you Mom
Today would have been my Mother’s birthday and it has made me think that perhaps the reason I like to grow things is down in part to her. She made good use of the garden around our little prefab by growing potatoes at the back aswell as rhubarb and gooseberries. At the front she grew carnations and pinks. She would make up a dozen with a spray of gyp and sell them for a shilling a bunch. My bedroom window overlooked a narrow flower bed and every year Mom would sow a packet of virginia stock in there. I can still remember their lovely perfume on warm summer evenings. The little verse is part of a poem written by my sister Cath.
Today I have sowed some of the new seed, four cucumber, four melon and two courgette. They are in 3″ pots and covered in cling film. We have been given the go ahead by Jim, the chairman, to put the greenhouse on the plot so Sunday looks like being a busy day.