As the years pass, I am amazed at how many times I find myself remembering things that my mother taught me during our time spent together. I remember with fondness, as I am no longer able to communicate with her, since she passed away in 2001, not long after September 11.
Since I left England in 1973, most of the things I remember her saying to me and teaching me would have been while I was growing up. There's a message in that, that a mothers influence in younger years can be significant.
Two strong remembrances of her were from my adult years however.
The first one from during my parent's visit to us while we were living in Sydney in 1977.
Mum watched me empty the washing from my baby poop coloured, twin tub washing machine, in the kitchen of our second floor unit, and she admonished me for not folding it. I learned that day that a moment folding washing can save several more moments ironing later on, YES, that advice I would practice and remember and I have made sure that my daughter knows it too!
A second and significant remembrance comes from Mum's passion for gardening.
Mum was always a keen gardener, which explains my love of flowers. Mum had a small,wedge shaped garden, surrounded by a tall laurel hedge, interspersed with conifers that my father kept trimmed. She loved shrubs that displayed vibrant autumn colours, she loved spring growth, summer flowers and the dark shiny leaves of the holly bush. Annual flowers, begonias, hydrangeas, Michaelmas daisies, and all kinds of spring bulbs were to be found in her garden and no matter what season there was always colour to be enjoyed. Even in winter there were crimson holly berries to contrast with snow and the dark,winter green foliage of the hedge. Blackbirds, thrushes, wrens and robins were welcomed and fed tidbits by my Mum and Dad. A delightful place for one and all, beautifully private, a place to be able to sit on the bench and enjoy a cup of coffee or afternoon tea and to enjoy the warmth of the sun for a while and contemplate life. Mum did a fine job of caring for her garden, I loved it, as did she.
Each day she would stroll around the garden and inspect everything, to see what was going on.
Usually wearing her apron, as was her habit while working in the kitchen, she would pop outside to hang out the washing or feed some cake or bread crumbs to the birds and whilst out there would make her tour of inspection. She would check up on signs of new growth, looking for buds and shoots; indeed any progress that might be visible in her collection, and be vigilant for slugs and snails, very prevalent pests in a suburban garden, invariably she would pull out a weed or two as she wandered around. A quick trip to the clothesline could easily expand to an hour or two of gardening pleasure. Little and often works for me too.
During one particular visit to my parents, who lived in Kent, Mum and I strolled around the garden talking, whilst she bent to dead head the petunias that were happily flowering over a rock wall that my dad had constructed.
She was hot on dead heading, and this is what I've inherited. She told me that the mission of an annual flower is to produce seed. The mission and joy of a gardener is to firstly produce flowers,thus is important to remove spent heads and encourage further flower production.
I have practiced this in every garden that I have had since then to great effect. As I embark on my daily Ooh and Aah sessions in my garden I think of Mum, her garden and her advice - what a rich inheritance! She is never far from my thoughts when I am in my garden.
I love all kinds of gardens, but my personal style and joy is in the sweet disorder of the cottagey look, a result of self seeding, and chaos amongst the plants, contrast this with my husband's preference for regimented lines and neatness - we have a challenge on our hands!
Although I do practice dead heading, I also allow some plants to go to seed, trusting that they will reproduce, however I have been known to gather seed heads and sprinkle them in other areas of the garden much to my husband's displeasure and frustration! I love random, he prefers ordered lines and so he looks after the vegetable patch where he can keep order.
By the by, the phrase "Sweet Disorder" comes from the poem Delight in Disorder written by Robert Herrick, a Metaphysical poet that I studied during my last years at high school and I have often savoured it over the years, as I have discovered that this is descriptive of many areas of my life. Certainly my garden,but also my craft room and my house in general,which makes it home, once again, my husband prefers order, whilst I go for the cluttered effect! Oh Dear!
The garden for me is a place of peace and beauty, a place for contemplation and memories,of my Mum and also of those friends who have given me cuttings of favourite plants,in short, total joy.
To mums out there, your words and actions may not be in vain.
Simply Susan
