SpringsofMyChildhood

Far beyond those winding mountain roads, through rolling Appalachian hill,
In a simpler and quieter time long past on a Southern street named Turner,
I fondly remember my mother's spring gardens, oh what a magnificent thrill!
I have no photos except in my mind, vividly tucked into its farthest corner.

Picture the blissful view of those glorious early yellow daffodils, in idyllic zeal
Lining the yard’s edge, while pretty azaleas of multi shades of pink and white
Add breathless charm and beauty with feathery cascades of blooms quite surreal.
There's also huge majestic hydrangeas, can you imagine what a stunning sight!

Mom planted the Easter lily that was a gift during my diabetic hospital stay,
The plant re-appeared each spring reminding us of everlasting hope in Him.
Mimosas with tiny pretty pink flowers and leaves that folded nightly to pray
Attracted the humming birds; ah my nostalgia almost like a praising hymn!

We were not among those who ask on Sunday "What today is our destination?"
Our plans were made around the services, where we studied each Bible verse.
Every Sunday and Wednesday we made our way to church without question.
Easter I always wore a special new dress with matching shoes, hat, and purse.

On this blustery cold Easter morning in northern Illinois in the present time,
I look out over the chilled air, finding rows of appealing daffodils peeking up,
Tulips and hyacinths awakening now, still small but showing beauty sublime.
I am thankful for a devoted mother's influence; she lovingly overflowed my cup.