My mother, Blanche, sitting on the front porch.
Each afternoon when my sister, Barbara, and brother Harold, and I, got off the school bus; Mama served us a snack. Sometimes she made a lemon meringue pie from scratch.
"Wash your hands, kids," she said with her sweet voice. "Come to the table. I've fixed a snack to tidy you over until supper."
Even today, my favorite dessert is lemon meringue pie. I've tried to follow Mama's recipe, but I can't duplicate her scrumptious dessert. It never tastes right.
She made snacks for years, until all her children finished high school. I was the youngest, and the last to graduate. She prepared delicious food when snow twirled like feathers, and as the redbud trees danced in breath-taking blooms.
I cherish the memories of my devoted- mountain mama, who reared me. She worked in the kitchen, and garden to nourish the body and soul.
Mama could hardly wait to grab a hoe each spring, and dig in the dirt. She enjoyed watching plants pop up in the garden. She loved nature and green was her favorite color. As she worked outdoors, Mama listened to the mourning doves, Bob whites, and whippoorwills trilling in the hills. The music of the songbirds soothed her soul, and tension melted from her body.
At times, I can still see my mama, her snow-white hair shining in the sunlight, or glowing under a lamp as she pieced the Cathedral Quilt. Her sky-blue eyes sparkled, and her face glowed with love, as she smiled at me.
Mama's been gone for four years. She passed at spring, when the dogwoods wore dozens of white crosses. I think that's when she would have chosen to enter that "Pearly-White City."
I wish all my blogger friends a very
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!
