Remember when you were a child, and you picked pretty bouquets of flowers for your mom? In springtime, it was violets. In summer, it may have been dandelions. And in fall, it might even have been dried weeds that somehow struck your fancy. With a smile on your face and your hands behind your back, you would walk up to her and then sweetly present the little gift. You gave them to her for no other reason than you loved her and wanted to make her smile.
My mother loved wildflowers, and she passed her appreciation of nature on to me. This morning, instead of pulling weeds, I picked some posies. On this last day of summer, my little bouquet of blooms brightens my table as I remember Mom and her beautiful smile.
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