Just a couple of years back, I started my own little personal tradition…to celebrate my folks on my birthday. After all, without them I would not celebrate any of these days, which by the way seem to come around at an alarming rate. Today, I’m remembering my mom with gardenias.

Raised in a modest three bedroom home, there was Mom, Dad, my older often bratty brother, and me. ONE bathroom. There was just one simple bathroom rule: When Dad needs in, you get out. The price of the home was under ten grand, and the mortgage was $99. At the time, even that felt like a stretch for my folks. Hard for us to imagine in today’s world! In our simple, not-too large, yard, there were several gardenia bushes. And each year when the white, fragrant blooms arrived, people would stop to ask my mother for her gardenia growing secrets.  “No secrets,” Mom would say as people shared sad tales of gardenia growing failures.

As an adult, in my own yard, there is one gardenia bush. It came with the house, and blooms for just a bit each summer. Certainly it’s not overflowing like the ones in my childhood home. I’ve even Googled “how to help gardenias thrive,” none of ideas have given great gardenia success, and I am 100% certain my mom didn’t add any organic matter to hers. Nor did she maintain airflow, measure the acidity of the soil, or add sulphur to help the PH level.

This year, my own plant produced enough to make a small bouquet, which I delivered to my mom and dad in their final resting place. It’s so clear to me that my mom is smiling at me as I attempt to help my gardenias thrive while she do so effortlessly.

Today, in my personal tradition, I celebrate, with gardenias, my mom and dad.

Slainte! Susan

P.S. As I just now glanced outside at my now bare gardenia plant, I notice a butterfly landing right at the top. A message from Mom!