Yesterday was a lovely day here in the south. Sunny. 70 degrees. Light breeze. Birds flying about, chirping to one another in the trees.
When Scott came home for lunch, we sat out on the deck and ate. After he went back to work, I went outside to do a little maintenance in the yard. Weeding, pruning, raking.
The knock-out rose bush my mother gave me six years ago had gotten out of control. It was huge, taller than me, way too broad across, and leaves only on the exterior tips of each branch. I got my clippers out and went to work on it, first trying to shape it up a bit. I quickly discovered it needed more than a little shaping. The branches were all intertwined and needed to be cut back. There were dead areas that had to be removed. It just needed an overhaul, so a few hours later, it was cut back to not much of anything at all. I can't wait to watch it come back to life, bursting out with new branches and leaves and buds. By summer, it will be a totally different bush than it was before.
I cleaned out the beds in the back yard, pulling weeds and clearing them of all the accumulation of winter leaves. I raked up an area full of hickory nut shells. I sweated and soaked in the sunshine. I thought about my mom all day.
"She would have loved today," I said over and over throughout the afternoon. And she would have. She would have spent the day as I did, outside, in her yard. She would have commented on how perfect the temperature was. And then the thought hit me that perhaps this is what every day is like for her now. Perfect. Perfect temperature. Perfect amount of sun and breeze. And I went to bed with a smile thinking how happy she must be.
Oh how I miss her so, but I am thankful she has a perfect day every day.