Personal updates

The Lilac Tree

Mum loved Spring:  the warming of the earth, how green crept over the land and daffodils nodded their cheerful heads in the chilly winds.  She was the first to point out the return of the robins, and she always had a garden with both flowers and vegetables.  Her yard always had a lilac tree growing quietly in a corner, waiting to surprise everyone with its gorgeous purple flowers and lush green leaves.  Mum’s poetry reflected her deep appreciation of the beauty she found in the world around her.  So this spring, in honor of my mother’s birthday and Mother’s day, I planted a lilac tree in my back yard, and I am posting one of her poems.

The Ghost of the Lilac Path

by Margaret Catherine Maclean Rayfuse Jones
(May 7, 1929 – March 20, 2000)

In springtime, when the frail, grey rain
Mists on the lilac buds again,
And perfumed dimly, gathers and slips
Softly, down from the curled leaf tips
She is still and sleeping underground
Beneath its quiet, quiet sound.

As May grows late, and showers toss
White stars from the lilac cones across
Her grave, and anon the wild wind blanches
The dusky, twisted lilac branches
With moonlight like a sudden laugh
She’s dancing in the pool-gemmed path.

a pic of mom

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