My Mother’s Garden
On a recent return to my sister and brother in law’s home in Wilmington, NC, where Mom lived the last couple years of her life, I came upon some interesting finds.
Mom loved living in Wilmington, and especially loved the lanai overlooking the peaceful pond and various wildlife that often visited. Butterflies flitted in and out of the natural area, bluebirds appeared at the feeder squeezing in and out of the little hole, dragonflies attached themselves to the lanai screen appearing to eavesdrop on the conversations within and hummingbirds sipped gently at the feeder before disappearing instantly from sight.
Resting gently against the wall in the guest room when I arrived this past January, was an embroidery piece I made for Mom in the early ’80s before our first child was born. As I looked over the print, I was amazed at the patience I must have had to complete the piece. I can just imagine how my mother felt when she saw this gift for the first time.
And there, instilled in the artwork was the true garden of my Mom’s life. Surrounded by a bevy of beautiful flowers was a butterfly and a hummingbird suspended in air and a script by the author, Alice E. Allen, that truly said it all: “Her heart is like her garden, old fashioned, quaint and sweet.”
Little did I know back then I would witness my Mom surrounded by the garden of her life where she was in peace, comfort, where she was surrounded by all she loved and all who loved her. She was every bit of the stanza depicted in My Mother’s Garden.
I will always love you, Mom.
Monica Sleap
2.22.16
Farther Along 
When I learned my mother was terminally ill in 1991, I was overcome with profound sadness of loosing her. She was a gardener and her flower garden was simply lovely. And, she loved to watch the birds as they flew into the garden. As I prepared for her passing, I wanted to find a poem that described her sweetness and passion. I went to the library and borrowed many books. I found a few but none captured her essence. One day I found a book on her bookshelf that had belonged to her mother. It was a collection of poems by American poets published in 1928. It was in this I found this poem, “My Mother’s Garden”. I knew immediately when I read the first line that this was the poem that best described her love, her sweetness and tenderness. I read this poem every year and it continues to touch me in a very special way. It is as if my mother is still with me.
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Thank you, Suzanne, for your comments about your sweet and special mother, and how the poem “My Mother’s Garden” keeps her close to your heart. Sincerely, Monica
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Hi Maddie, nice to hear from you today. I have the piece of framed art in my home currently. Do you think your piece of art is a duplicate? It is a beautiful piece of art, and the message is very special. Thank you again for your message today. Sincerely, Monica
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Hi Monica, a couple weeks ago a client of mine was giving away some of her things to Charity and I stumbled across this same piece of art. I noticed it right away because it describes my Grandmother that passed. I came across this post after researching the poem etc. Could the piece I have be the same one that you are referring to in this post?
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Monica, this is beautiful and mom would have loved this descriptive writing! You posted this on the 15th anniversary of your daughter’s angel day and know that you missed mom’s nightly call on a day that is a reminder of why every day is tough with a loss of a child. I believe Katie and Mom were catching up in our heavenly garden and smiling down at you! Love you. Your sis, Kelly
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Lovely handwork, beautiful writing, wonderful memories.
Live Free …
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This is so lovely Monica. Your extraordinary handiwork, the setting you describe, and the tribute to your amazing mother. What a privilege it was for me and so many of the moms in our group to get to know her. I will always remember visiting her in Wilmington, with two of her daughters swooping in like birds to attend her every need and make her laugh–she could get off a good one herself–and the gorgeous natural world out back.
“Aren’t I blessed,” she said, “to be here surrounded by my family and all this beauty.”
Yup. You were. And no one was more deserving.
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