Dancing Petunias With Mom

 

The sun was lifting high above our heads as we shoveled dirt in quiet peacefulness. My mother was young and vibrant, with a smile that matched. I never knew that weeding a garden was so important at the ripe age of nine. I watched my mother intently while she demonstrated the proper technique to remove the roots and heads of the pesky critters now taking over our lovely flower bed. My four brothers were given other chores around our small pink house in the hills of Montana, and I was please that it was just the two of us working under the warmth of the sun. My little fingers dug deep into the soft cool soil as my mother straightened her lean fit body next to mine. “When we get done, “she whispered, “I have something special I’d like to show you,” she said in my direction. I smiled back, acknowledging her, while wondering what she could possibly be saving to share with me.

My father had been gone all of winter with the military. And as I looked at my mother, I couldn’t help but be proud of her courage to handle five children in his absence.  Unbelievably, she had taken on a job out at a huge ranch in the country; and when we left for school each morning, she would scramble to make her way out to the ranch and clean and take care of a family with six children. I didn’t understand her strength then, but sitting there in the garden bed it really didn’t matter. What mattered was I was with my mom, my very own special mom that loved her only daughter.

We finished weeding and my mom raced into the house after instructing me to stay put. On her return she carried a tray with lemonade, cookies and toothpicks. How odd, I thought, as I spied the toothpicks. Surely she didn’t expect me to eat the cookies with a toothpick? She set the tray upon the sidewalk and handed me a glass and a cookie, as she gave herself the same. Without a word she downed both quicky as I relished mine, eating it slowly and deliberately.  I watched as my mother without a word snapped off two soft purple and pink petunias from their stem, then clipped two unopened blossoms as well. She then turned towards the tray. “What are you doing mom?” I asked with curiosity.  But my mom only smiled as she picked up a toothpick and began to work her magic. To my astonishment, my mother created a beautiful petunia dancing doll.

“When I was a little girl,”  my mother began, “my mother used to make dolls for us to play with out of flowers. My favorite was the petunia because it had the prettiest flowing gown.” She handed me the purple petunia doll and I spied it carefully. What had been the unopened blossom was now the doll’s soft head attached to the toothpick as a body, flowing below was the overturned flower blossom that acted as the gown.

“It’s beautiful” I said with wonder and joy in my voice. I looked up into my mother’s face and smiled as she began to hum and move her doll about…dancing to the tune of her voice. My little hand joined hers as our dolls danced together at a Garden Party made just for me…me and my mom.

images courtesy of google images