Querida Mãe

Dear Mother,

It has been 6 years since your passing.
I think of you each day and feel
forever blessed to have had
you as my mother.

You taught me to pray, to buy the best
I could afford, to love with an open heart,
to share, to care about the poor and less fortunate,
and countless other treasures to live by.

You taught me that the front garden is the first living
room and it should be inviting to guests and family.  You
taught me that with parsley, green onions, and a pinch of
salt a healing broth could be made.

You taught me to plant by the phases of the moon,
to enjoy the feel and smell of the dirt, to show my
love by talking to plants.

During the most difficult time of caring
for father, you would work the garden by the
light of the moon and found solace in the company
of flowers and vegetables.

There was a legacy in all that you shared.  When I became
pregnant with my fourth child at forty-two I worried you
would be angry and disappointed, but no you said that
would be the child you carried in your soul.

Calheta de Nequim, Pico, Acores Summer of 1976

I can't identify the three on the left, but if you start in the middle.
Dulce, in the blue and white weave top, the baby is Christine, my
niece, my sister and her mother, Mericia, is holding her.
That's my granny, Olinda, she had Ankylosing Spondylitis, too.
At the far right is my mother, Alzira.  Mother is 46 years and my
Granny is 91, look how black her hair is.

Granny had the bluest eyes, alabaster skin and jet black hair.
More than any of us, Olinda, was a happy smiling soul.
She raised 13 children of her own to adulthood. My mother
was the youngest. 

This photo reflects not only people I love but things I hold
dear.  The wood ceiling, exposed rock walls (white washed),
a hanging cabinet.  I can't be sure but I think lace decorates
the shelf in the cabinet and there are hanging tea cups.
Look to the right of my mother, there is a white enamelware basin bowl.

My father and mother in the pink kitchen of 424 Purisima.
Mother in her ever-present apron.  I collect aprons because
they remind me of her and the care she used in everything
she did.  My mother is holding the last supper that would
hang in a place of honor in each of her kitchens.

I long for them, especially as we enter the holiday season.
Today and everyday you live in my heart.

Day 8: Happy Birthday, Mother

Happy Birthday, Mother. 
Mother loved birthdays
and simple gifts.  She was happy just
to be surrounded by her children and grandchildren.

When we were sick we longed for her.
No matter the distance she came to
care for us. 

Mother, You cast a giant shadow. 
We will never forget you.

I have found 
the paradox,
that if you love 

until it hurts,
there can be no more hurt, 
only MORE love. 

               Mother Teresa

Oh, how I wish she were still with me.


In the last months of her life,
I would sit for hours holding her
hand. I thought I knew, how much
I would miss her touch, her healing
power, and her compassion, but I only
knew a little.

Words from my Mother

My mother was brilliant.
She would say the biggest
blessing is to have PEACE.

Peace encompasses it all.
Good health.
Good cheer.
Quiet.
Rest.

May you welcome peace into your
home and workplace during the
coming year.

 

Me, Dulce, Mother

Happy Birthday Big Brother

Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light.

                                      Theodore Roethke

My brother holds the light.
He keeps the light deep. 
Unable to accept the joy.
The joy he makes and the the joy
he is given.

Be gracious today and accept your
worthiness.
Don't fight the wave but surrender.
Surrender.  Allow the warmth of
unconditional love to encompass
your being.
Laugh, sing and eat well.

Allow all who are near to love you.
Submit to kindness.
Nothing necessary in return.
No score keeping.

We understand and accept the
tenderness of your heart.

Oxalá,  que este dia repita por muitos anos.

Happy Birthday.

Mother

My mother was accomplished.
Fearless. Honorable.  Faithful.

She sheared wool and spun wool.
She baked bread in a "pizza-type" oven, wood,
no thermostat.   She could feel the right
temperature.

Sewed, embroidered, cross-stitched ,crocheted,
and knitted like a master. Homemaker extraordinaire.

Her thumb was GREEN. Collected seeds and cuttings
made up her garden.  Gardening in urban
environments before it was fashionable.

Strong. She loved us.  Five children all born
at home with a midwife.
Mother cared for my father and sister until
their passing.

Weeds were transformed into exquisite bouquets.

She shared her faith and wisdom with us.
A survivor we all turned to her for strength.

If Roses Grow in Heaven Lord


If roses grow in Heaven Lord 
Please pick a bunch for me.
Place them in my Mother's arms
and tell her they're from me.
Tell her I love her and miss her,
and when she turns to smile,
Place a kiss upon her cheek
and hold her for a while.
Because remembering her is easy,
I do it everyday,
But there is an ache within my heart
That will never go away.

Next Road Trip

December is my absolute favorite month.
It has everything: people are a bit nicer,
it's cool enough to bake (although it was 96 degrees in
Los Angeles yesterday), gifts to wrap, and sparkling
lights all over.  A special dinner and memories of those
we love.

God gave us memories so we might have roses in December
and mothers forever. 

                                                                 James M. Barrie

My mother's roses continue to bloom in my garden.
The roses take my breath away with memories.
This is the first year since my mother's passing
where I feel a want to celebrate.



Christmas Tree Lane
Fresno, California

Renegade Craft Fair San Francisco

Missing Mae

Mae is Portuguese for mother.

Our mother gave sage advise.
She was a rock.
A pillar of strength for us to draw from.
She'd always cook our favorite meals.

If I pause, something she never did, I
can smell the warmth of her kitchen.
She always wore an apron.
She cooked from taste and love.
Baked from scratch.

She is right there in my mind's eye.
Sometimes when the distance between
visits was too long, she would
prepare a care package full of all my
favorite foods.

The box smelled like her kitchen, garlic, wine, and
cinnamon.  I'd eat and
weep with longing.

Years and years ago,  I miscarried my
second child, my mother was visiting.
It was providence for her to be with
me.  She was there to care for my
little one, clean up my loss,  and
comfort my heartache.

Months later, when the baby would have
been born,  I received a baby doll she had crocheted.
Unlike anyone else, she knew where my thoughts
were and exactly what I would need.  Something to
hold. 

Tend our wounds and mend our
hearts.  She longed for us as we long
for her still.

Parabens. 
Happy Birthday.

Posh Landing

I am sure there are those who dream
of a posh landing.
A castle, mansion or an oasis on a hill.

Not I.  As I peruse Pinterest, where you can
find everything your heart desires, I pin 
my heart.

A cottage heart.
Small houses.
Classic cars
Cottage gardens.
Riot of color.

Embroidery.
Crochet.
VW Buses.
Smeg appliances.
Place to travel: Holland, Azores, and Portugal.

Simple and obtainable.
God willing.

My mother was glad I stated
a little
girl for so long.  I still like
frilly lace and ruffles.

She also said, "Your
front garden is your
home's first living space."

I have kept these things in mind.
Along with guest towels in the
bathroom. The ones NO one else is allowed
to use.
No, Joe you are not a guest.

Pumpkin Cottage flowers

Alma (Soul)

God speaks to me all the time.
I don't hear words but I feel the words in
my heart.  His inspiration.  The weight lays
on my heart until I am moved to action.

Apple Blossom by Holly

 

Joe texted me the other morning.
He wrote: I heard mother call my name & I woke up.

Later he shared, he heard her knock at his bedroom door and call his name.
Joe woke right up and started cleaning.  My mother was a clean fanatic.
Influence from beyond the grave. She was a very charming and
persuasive woman.

Joe is so lucky.

Blossom2 by Holly

I haven't dreamed with her yet. Or sensed her presence in a vivid
why.   I want to hear her voice and see her face in living color.
It simply hasn't happen but I am sure it will, eventually.

Collar Greens by Holly.  These came from my mother's seeds.

Solteiras (Maidens, translated literally:Single women) by Holly

One of the ladies at the beauty shop (cuter than salon) said she smells
her mother's perfume around her some times.

In the book Signals, by Joel Rothschild, a hummingbird is the
presence.

Word of the Day: Geranium (the poor man's rose)

Parabéns Mae Happy Birthday, Mother

Happiness is a form of Courage.

                                            George Holbrook Jackson

Here we are in December 2007 at Holly's baptism

 

 

 

VoVo, me, Jacob and Joe...last Easter she cooked 2005

Isn't that the truth?  I miss her the same as the day she passed.
If I tell the truth, maybe more.
Long hours just holding her hand because I knew I would miss it
so very much.  Her beautiful skin the medical personnel complimented.
Her secret, no sun, no alcohol or smoking.

We have conversations.  I ask for her advice and pray.
She prepared me well.  To have honor, to be brave, to pay my bills on time,
to recognize peace as critical to happiness, to be honest, to be generous,
to have a little fun, to work hard, to love education.

Joe once said that for a tiny person she cast a large shadow.
You betcha.  She asked me not to forget her.
Not even if I lived a million years.

In the winter, I wrap the many scarves she knit or crocheted for me around
my neck.  I feel her hands and I imagine her sitting on the corner of the
couch with her legs stretched and her happy toes. 

Holly used to dream with her VoVo all the time.
She told me VoVo is busy now she has so many friends.

Us, kids, we all believe it.

Happy Birthday my Beloved. 

Parabéns, Mãe (Happy Birthday, Mother)

This is one of my mother's gardens.  I know it is hers because it has her personal stamp.  There are carnations, pansies, daisies, cosmos...all the cottage flowers I have in my own garden still. Gardening is what sustained her in the many years she cared for our father.  In the light of the moon she would work her garden for beauty and for food.  In the garden she would talk to her plants and find God's grace.   True love is not about the easy times it is about weathering the storm as a spouse, as a parent and as a child.  My heart has only gratitude for the blessings that were my beloved parents.

Everyday

My mother's birthday is next Wednesday.  I always looked forward to the cooler October weather and a trek to Half Moon Bay for her birthday.  Those are the memories that help me hold it together.  I miss her everyday but especially when I have a great joy or disappointment.  Yesterday was one of those days when I would have especially appreciated her encouragement and strength.  On the 20th she would have turned 82.  And while 81 years seems like a long time and I am grateful.....it wasn't nearly enough to learn all that I needed to know.

Little by little I am scanning old negatives....discovering images from the past.  Theses images are from the summer of 1976 when we visited the Azores.
Check out this wood burning oven....no thermostat.. the temperature is measured by sight and feel.   Notice the huge pizza/bread peel.  These are friends of the family in the photo below, but my sisters, as little girls 8 and 10, were also able to bake bread from scratch this way.  My mom had explained years ago that she would have a long branch sticking out of the oven to keep the ambers going.  She would simply push in a length of the branch as she needed.

A vibrant red kitchen indeed,  with two red benches, a huge bowl for making the dough, and beautiful rosy fabric.  The aroma must have been amazing and I know we had homemade butter.  The photos bring bring a rush of memories of the specific scene.  I can see how my decorating style was so influenced by this memory of comfort. 

 Below is a photo of my mother, she would have been  in her mid forties..just like me now.   She has that look of self assurance and those hands that could do anything. Comfort, discipline, clean until everything shined and smelled fresh, knit and crotchet with speed and accuracy and garden with the greenest thumbs I have ever known.   

I do recall that we had not planned to spend the night and had to borrow clothes for the day while our freshly laundered clothes dried on the line.  I could never have imagined how much I would miss her.  Joe says that for such a small person she cast a huge shadow.  In my mind, she was always a giant.  No one will ever replace her in my heart. 

Nicholas

Nicholas graduated on June 18. Didn't get a glimpse of him but I was there. Don't let anyone fool you, being a mother is the toughest job you will ever love.