As I scramble during spring to find natural remedies for my allergies, my mother, Carolyn Miller, is full of delight as her babies awaken to greet the new season.
Snapdragons, dahlias and monkey grass begin to conquer her yard as the warm southern spring aids in the war against her lover's haphazard collection of odd items and trash. Spring seems to always be my mother's season to dominate both in her business and in life. Some may refer to her as a modern day Persephone due to how she brings forth life in a desolate garden or flowerbed. Many refer to her as the "Plant Lady" or "Caroline"; to me she is "Superwoman."
My mother had a unique way of raising her children while balancing her own lifelong goals, but it seemed that she used the same approach to meet whatever challenge she faced as she does when she grows her flowers, both a hobby and business. The greatest challenge I have seen my mother continuously overcome is becoming the kind of mother she is today.
Like how she grows her flora babies, my mother has had an interesting approach to raising my siblings and me. To begin, she has always provided the ideal environment for us to freely blossom. My mother does not use some magical soil to grow her striving plants, and my mother similarly provided us with what we needed to strive and not what we needed to become complacent. Her hands-off approach overlaps into her parenting, as my mother never controls our interests. Of course, my mother let us wander down a dead end or grow into the wrong direction.
She habitually weeds gardens and flowerbeds, so my mother never had an issue voicing her opinion of a thorn she saw in our sides. Lastly, my mother knew that she would have to watch us leave home, and she never feared us transplanting to new places. She instead trusted her rearing and never questioned our new surroundings.
Others may grow jealous when they hear their mother gloat about how her babies are growing so beautifully as she describes her plants. I instead embrace the pride she has because her green thumb seems to work for me, also. I heed mother's advice to never become an azalea, short in blossom and demanding in upkeep. I strive to be like some of her favorite plants: roses, lavender and irises. I work to be appreciated and recognized when present, beautiful, symbolic in meaning and sweet when I pass people by.
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