As a kid I often tried to make myself scarce, when Mom went into the back yard to weed her flowerbed. I could handle a shovel and rake well, but pulling each individual weed out by hand was not only tedious and labor intensive, but required an unnatural stance, legs spread out and bent deep at the waist for long periods of time, with sweat rolling down the forehead and dropping off the nose into the soil. Besides, I had a hard time distinguishing between flower and weed ... or perhaps I really just didn't want to learn.
Now, having transplanted her purple Iris from Ohio, and seeing them in full bloom in Georgia, I'm reminded of the patience and dedication she gave each Spring to cultivate and nurture these beautiful plants, and our family as well. Thanks Mom!