Mary was mistress of the seasons. Winter was classic: sledding, snowmen, and snowball fights. Fall found her sporting a near maniacal smile, leaf blower at the ready. Spring was planting, planting, planting… Summer may have been when she was most alive: splashing and digging with her boys at Cape Henlopen, checking out bartenders with girlfriends in Dewey Beach, tending all those spring plantings, prepping endless piles of veg for me to grill, picnicking at Brandywine River Museum of Art, and lounging at Winterthur while our sons played and made friends.
The first official signs of summer in our house come from a giant magnolia tree dominating our front yard. In late May and early June the massive blooms appear. However sparse they were, Mary loved them and would always bring one inside to further beautify our home.
The blooming seasons have expanded since her passing and there seem to be more flowers each day this year. It’s a sign of the love here, getting bigger and more colorful.
There’s another special magnolia in the Copeland Sculpture Garden at Delaware Art Museum. It too appears happier than when it was first chosen to memorialize Mary.
I used to grumble when Mary insisted on taking fresh cut flowers in water to a campsite or on a seven hour drive to a family reunion.
But when I saw our magnolia blooming just before our latest adventures, I knew I wanted one to join us. My elder son suggested the perfect receptacle and I, once again, figured out how to pack an open container with flower and water. Mary’s magnolia was vigilant in keeping our campsites fresh and beautiful over the last two weeks.
Her love is amazing.
God bless and thank you for reading,
Jason