In My Mother's Garden

As I start writing this, I'm at my parent's house - now actually my father's house. My mother passed away two weeks ago today and her funeral was yesterday. Quarantine rules mean that apart from attending the funeral we're not allowed to leave the property and so as well as bringing a couple of books to read, I brought my camera with me to capture some of the beauty of the garden that she and dad have created in the 20 years that they've lived in their small village in rural Somerset.

Ann Page, 31.05.1941-16.03.2021 🕆

Even though dad is the son of a horticulturalist, it was mum who was the driving force in the garden, suggesting the design and choosing the plants. Her pride and joy was the large rockery bisecting the garden and separating the upper and lower lawns.

Mum tending her beloved rockery back in happier times in 2017

The flowers and shrubs were definitely her domain and it's a real treat in spring, especially the rockery with its primulas, grape hyacinths and pasque flowers. It also forms a great home for ladybirds and spiders at this time of year. Who knew that spiders could be so cute large? (my wife certainly doesn't).

Grape hyacinths, looking towards the house

Mum had turned her hand to a number of things over the years, but was predominantly a home-builder, at least while my sister Hilary and I were growing up. She was an excellent cook and seamstress, a great hostess and had a wicked sense of humour, something that she maintained until quite near the end. It was always easy to get a twinkle out of her eye with a clever aside, even when she was struggling with words herself as she did on and off for the last few years. Especially if it was a subtle sotto voce dig at dad (who doesn't have the best hearing, bless him). Always guaranteed to elicit a sly grin!

One of Mum's greatest strengths was putting other people first, whether that meant being a stay-at-home mum for the most part or driving me all over the southern half of the UK when I was looking for university places. She loved singing, was a reluctant leader when they asked her to head up the WI or Mother's Union and loved it when she could get fresh strawberries and cream on her birthday at the end of May. In the days before the universal availability of such exotic fruits throughout the year this was always a bit touch and go. She was a great role model.

Pasque Flower

Pasque Flowers Contra Jour

As her health declined over the last years I had the impression that she was always at her best when we were visiting or when she came to us, slumping somewhat afterwards. Dad did a great job looking after her whilst that was still possible for someone in his 70s to do, taking over essentially all the domestic duties in the house over time. When we were back at Christmas 2019 the rest of us had settled in to the living room after dinner and mum was missing. Partly out of concern for what she might be up to and partly wanting to just chat with her for a bit I went looking for her and found her brightly washing up in the kitchen. It was the first time she'd done this for at least two years and we were both excited about how well she was doing and she expressed a wish to be able to come out and visit us at Easter. It was the last time that she was this well. By Easter 2020 travel restrictions were in place and her health had deteriorated again. Those precious minutes we had together in the kitchen are a great memory to hold on to.

One of the neighbours fashioned this beautiful sheath for mum's coffin

Communicating with mum has been very difficult over the last year. We were able to visit her through the window of her care home back in September just after she came out of Yeovil hospital after a protracted stay. That was the last time we saw her. Since then visiting rules at the care home have meant that only one designated visitor was allowed. Even if we had flown home and gone through the 10-day enforced quarantine, we wouldn't have been able to visit her.

Apple blossom in the Spring

Ladybird

Perrywinkle

Dandelion Flower

Telephoning was extremely difficult - she couldn't work out what to do with the smart phones offered her by the home to communicate and video calls only made her upset. In the end I resorted to old fashioned communication and wrote her a letter a week, enclosing a photo or two that I'd taken recently. Only a single page each time, letting her know what the family was up to or reassuring her when she moved home in February that we still knew where she was and she didn't need to fret - something in black and white that the carers could re-read to her when she got upset or forgot. Of all the photos I sent the most crinkled one - the one she'd apparently held in her hand the most - was a summit shot of Sharon and me in the Bavarian Alps. 

Letters to Mum

Spending the week with dad was the right thing to do despite all the hurdles involved in international travel at the moment. Although I think we'd all done our 'letting go' in the months if not years before as mum's ability to interact with her surroundings had slowly declined, it was important to say goodbye and be together again as family.

We'll miss you mum, and we certainly won't forget you!

Goodbye Mum, you won't be(e) forgotten!

Wood pigeon, ubiquitous to our garden

Wysteria Bud

Rockery Flowers

Garden Spider

Last Year's Poppy

Daffodils