Mother’s Day is quickly approaching and the shopping guides directing consumer spending are popping up like wild spring jonquils in the southern woods. Consumers are being warned today’s mothers don’t want this and they don’t want that. Digital arrows are pointing the way to more electronics because mothers need to save time and they want the convenience of online shopping and viewing wherever they might have a minute to jump online.
There is so much direction offered combined with declarations of what mothers no longer want that overwhelmed consumers just might click on these lists, electronically trash them and actually buy gifts from the heart. It could happen but probably only if there is an app directing consumers to do so.
Jewelry and spa certificates are usually on all of the lists whether they rate high or low as ideal Mother’s Day presents. So are restaurant gift cards, scented bath products, decorative candles, perfume and clothing. Some surveys show mothers want homemade cards and gifts from their young children. This one rings true to me because those handmade gifts are only given for a few short years until the children outgrow school art projects and become busy with other activities. Applause is due for school teachers and Sunday school leaders who make sure those button-framed photos and painted macaroni necklaces are created.
Appliances are usually a No-No on the lists. Recently I had a conversation with my aunt and she asked if I knew about the vacuum cleaning robot that works on its own. Of course I know about it and have even almost purchased one during late-night channel surfing. I assured my seventy-something year-old aunt, friends of mine own that very vacuum and have been pleased with the performance of the circular sweeper that stays in its own docking station when not in action.
My aunt confessed to me, almost in a whisper on the phone, that she wants that expensive vacuum to clean up the hair shed by her beloved yellow cat named Taco. My aunt has two grown children and three teenage grandchildren, but I bet she won’t reveal to them her true desire this Mother’s Day to ditch her two traditional vacuums and bask in the luxury of owning a robotic one.
Maybe I am commenting on these observations because I dabble with researching consumer spending trends related to gift-giving holidays. Or maybe as a mother of teenagers, I am feeling a bit nostalgic as Mother’s Day nears. And it’s possible that maybe all of this reflection is happening because I also am daughter, and this year will be the 45th year I have not had a mother on Mother’s Day. She was 33 and went to sleep one night and never woke up. The happening was crushing, unfair and defining.
My thankful heart swells with love for my children, even on the challenging days. I really wanted to be a mother and I took extraordinary steps to become one — as many women have. But not having a mom for so many years has left subtle but significant imprints on my heart. It’s as if the lone foot prints in the snow are never ending, and though I may sometimes resent their tracking across my heart, I can’t bear to look away or ignore them in case I might catch one last glimpse of Mom.
My mother loved all kinds of flowers and plants. She favored yellow daffodils, sun-loving daylilies and numerous wildflowers discovered at our friend’s cattle ranch. She always had a garden for cutting flowers, so we could enjoy zinnias, marigolds and nasturtiums in the house. She seemed to have had a unique connection with the earth. Mom always planted caladium bulbs in the secret garden on the west side of the house, where a behind-the-garage utility room sheltered a giant kiln for her pottery creations. The colorful, elephant ear caladium leaves had their own agenda — pushing through the shaded soil in their own time. When they appeared, their splashed colors were magical, and I remember those brilliant leaves seemed to stand guard in the secret garden filled with ferns, vines, bamboo and even papyrus.
Growing up around people who care for the earth and teach their children to care about Nature is a true gift. My other aunt emails photos to me sharing scenes of her beautiful trees, flowering bushes and the peaceful landscape surrounding her North Carolina home. I notice the resident cardinal appears in most of the photos — no matter the time of year. The bird bath sees a lot of action and its placement outside a main viewing window to the garden is pure strategy. My aunt knows how I appreciate seeing the beauty that surrounds her and she is rightfully proud of the efforts that go into keeping up the visual tranquility.
My mother’s mother loved all kinds of flowers and had magnificent gardens featuring azaleas and massively tall camellias. Her grand gardenias grew near the sandy beach area by the lake, not too far from the exotic flowering ginger. Not sure if it’s true, but that sweet gardenia fragrance was credited with initiating a few courtships through the years. That memorable gardenia scent can’t help but hang lustily in the humid night air. That’s Nature for sure.
There were those days when I would visit my grandmother and she handed me the clippers and suggested I snip a rose from the circle garden. She knew I was visiting soon and she saved the favorite coral colored rose for me to cut and bring into the house. What a treat! I was chosen to do that for her.
My father’s mother took pride in the entrance to the family home because the walk was lined on both sides with strong, tall gerberas that always bloomed. Azaleas were out front as well, and in the spring the blossoms were splendid. Guests who drove by the front saw this floral welcome from their cars because my grandparents’ home was one of those houses where you parked in the back and entered through the kitchen. And in that kitchen on windowsills and a circular étagère were dozens of violets of all colors. My grandmother treated them as if they were her pets – feeding them, watering them and fretting a bit if one didn’t look just right.
Outside of the kitchen walk there was a small circular garden filled with bright red geraniums. I clearly remember those geraniums because during a stormy afternoon when I was young I looked out over them and saw hail for the first time. If I were to name a geranium I might call it Hail.
My step grandmother was a daisy lover — I think because to her they were cheerful and unfussy. Meals served on the everyday china featured yellow and white daisies on the plate and bowl rims. Her appreciation for potted plants and tropical foliage was obvious by the number of plants surrounding the home as well as those displayed on narrow shelves on the screened front porch overlooking the tiny lake. As an animal lover she fed the birds and the squirrels so caring for plants and living things was in her gentle nature.
This may mark the 45th year I have not had a mom on Mother’s Day but there is no loneliness because I choose to recognize how fortunate I am to have been encouraged to grow, enjoy, share and appreciate Nature’s gifts. My family members and friends who have passed remain with me in many ways. Whether memories are invoked by certain colors, fragrances or plant varieties, I feel blessed to sort of keep family with me and remember them through flowers and plants.
In my professional life, I have written about all kinds of gardening items and products including orchids and indoor foliage, hanging baskets and succulents. With my camera I have tromped through greenhouses capturing photos of plants that were spectacular but not-yet-ready for consumers. Seeing these creations before they are shipped to stores and garden centers never gets old, and the sneak peek is nearly sacred to me. I’ve written about interiorscapes in office buildings and landscape plants in theme parks. I have given talks about orchids — even an impromptu one while I was in the delivery room waiting for the birth of my son after his twin sister was born nearly three hours earlier.
When you have flowers and plants around, you have access to memories. And with flowers and plants, there are opportunities to create memories for and with others. My grandfather made sure there were flowers to present to me by my cousins after my first ballet recital without my mother. Flowers and plants make us feel better. We need them. Maybe in today’s complicated world, we need flowers and plants more than ever. Receiving them is joyous, and gifting them to others is just as meaningful.
I will continue reading the latest findings and predictions about Mother’s Day purchases. All of those suggested items on the lists this year won’t rattle me unless the gift popularity ratings discourage consumers from purchasing flowers and plants. That would be a sad mistake. Because if this Mother’s Day miraculously offered me one more chance to see my Mom, this would be the year I would buy 45 bouquets.
With gratitude, I offer sweet wishes for a Happy Mother’s Day from a flower and plant-loving daughter.
Source: Floral Business magazine
