Altar Call – Opelika-Auburn News
Walter Albritton
May 1, 2016
Spring flowers remind
me of Mama
“In the spring a young man’s fancy
lightly turns to thoughts of love.” That is a famous line from the poetry of
Alfred Tennyson. I suppose the British Lord was right about young men. And I
can testify that it is also true for old men for spring flowers stimulate
thoughts of love for my Mama.
Mama loved flowers. She grew flowers.
She knew flowers. Both her thumbs were green. At one time Mama had a half acre
of Daylilies. She sold some but loved to give them away to family members and
friends.
Working in the yard around our country
home was a passion for Mama. She turned a briar patch into a flower
garden. Flowers were everywhere, surrounding
the humble home which Dad built with his own hands. Hanging baskets of green
ferns and flowering plants were always swaying in the breeze.
Mama loved life. While Dad was out in
the fields raising cattle and growing cotton and corn, Mama was busy cooking,
canning or sewing – and she loved it all. But best of all she loved working in
her yard. Coming home, over the years, I usually found Mama in her yard,
defending her plants against the evil weeds.
She hated nut grass. Her children and
grandchildren all remember how she recruited them to serve in her war against
the nut grass and weeds that tried in vain to choke her flowers.
When the aging process required a hip
replacement, we figured Mama would slow down but we were wrong. Though unable
to kneel she sat in a chair and continued to tend her flowers.
One day she fell in the yard and could
not get up. By that time Dad was deaf as a post so her calls for help went
unheeded for hours. Finally one of her daughters heard her and came to her
rescue. Stubbornly she refused to stop working outside.
Canning food is dangerous work. But the
danger did not deter Mama. One day Mama accidentally spilled hot paraffin on
her right hand and arm. Months of painful, tedious therapy followed before she
could use that hand again.
Mama’s injured hand kept her out of her
flower beds are awhile but she refused the role of an invalid. Her several pen
pals needed to hear from her so she learned to write with her left hand! We all
marveled at her grit and determination.
Dad built Mama a small green house. There
she guarded her tender plants during winter months. Then, to honor Mama’s devotion
to flowers, Dad built her a huge green house with glass walls and ceiling. He
even installed a sprinkler system and a gas furnace. She was so proud of her
green house. Now she could really grow flowers!
Mama advertised and sold some of her flowers
by mail and to customers who came to the house. She used the name, “Carrie’s
Garden,” though I never heard anyone call her Carrie. She was Caroline to her friends
while her 12 siblings called her “Sister.”
When my flowers are at their best I wish
I could talk to Mama. She was a reservoir of information. Outside my study
window there thrives a running rose bush, blessing me with beautiful cascading
white booms. Mama could tell me if this is a floribunda rose or a grandiflora.
She would know.
Mama enjoyed her amaryllis plants. The
appearance of an amaryllis bloom was a joyous moment she loved to share with others.
Near my rose bush, peaking through tall
grass and gently shaded by a popcorn tree, are two bright red amaryllis blooms.
These lovely blooms will not last long but while they last they will remind me how
much Mama loved the amaryllis.
Mama gave me a love for flowers that has
enriched my life immeasurably. I wish I had expressed my gratitude to her while
she was still living. Life slips by so quickly, leaving many tender feelings
unexpressed, “thoughts of love” to use Tennyson’s words. So I have decided that
while I have breath I will let spring flowers remind me to more boldly express
the tender feelings of my heart to those dearest to me. + + +