Mema’s peonies

By MEGAN RATHZ

When Nature Speaks

Has there ever been someone that you have never met, but they are spoken of so often you feel you know them?

My mom’s grandmother, “Mema Hudson,” is someone I never had the chance to meet, but she has been spoken about so frequently, and with such ease, that I have always felt I knew her. Her closeness to my mom, her love of flowers, family and sense of tradition with the holidays has always made me feel a connection to her. So much of who my mom is as a grandmother, the way she sets the table at Thanksgiving, and our shared love of collecting Fiestaware came from Mema Hudson. From the time I was a little girl, there was a photograph of Mema Hudson standing in her peony grove. She always looked so proud of her beautiful blooms and had an expression of such contentment that has always stayed with me. This photograph was a staple in my childhood home, along with her pearl Bible, both always prominently displayed.

We all have memories associated with different times in our lives. Flowers are like mini-time capsules that bloom and transport me to a place in my past. Some of my memories go as far back to my childhood home where my mom had Black-eyed Susans planted along the side of our house. I remember riding my bike and noticing how pretty those black and yellow flowers looked. To this day when I see them in bloom, I remember being that little girl on my bike.

My mom has said many times that the most influential person in her life was her Mema Hudson, which is why I believe I think of someone I have never even met every time I see a peony in bloom. Flowers are deeply intertwined with my memories. I want my children to grow up with memories of beauty that carry them to adulthood, but also bring them back to a simpler time of innocence of them riding their bikes.

Children grow up and change, just as life is constantly evolving, but our flowers keep returning, reminding us of different times in our lives; they stand the test of time. There are many parallels between life and gardening. The more you nurture and take care of your own backyard, the people in your life and your own flowers, the more things in your life will bloom and beauty is shared with others. My mom epitomizes this in her life. She tends the people in her life just as she does the soil and flowers in her backyard.

A bloom from one of Mema’s peonies taken this year. (Photo courtesy Al Hopkins)

To see the spark of curiosity my daughter has in helping me take care of flowers, watching her carefully decide which color of Fiestaware plate she is going to select for her meal, the excitement she has when she sees a lightning bug or fresh bloom is the sweetest part of being a mom.

As my own children are growing up and starting to understand family, I have been reflective of the way my mom shared Mema Hudson with me because I know I am tasked with the same duty to share my own father with my children. The explanation of the loss of my own dad and how he fits into the scope of my own children’s consciousness is something I reflect on often, and a torch I feel I must carry for them to keep his light shining in their lives. I hope they look at the lighthouse in South Haven, Mich., or enjoy an enormous chocolate ice cream cone from Dairy Queen, and think of my dad the same way I think of Mema Hudson when I see a peony in bloom.

I know how you can make someone come to life for others through words. I want my son to understand why he was given my father’s name when he hears me speak of him. If I am able to pass down traditions to my own children the way Mema Hudson did for my mom and have my children grow up feeling as if they knew my dad, I will consider my motherhood journey a success. Perhaps they, too, will feel a bond with someone they have never met.

Nature is speaking through our flowers. They are returning to us each year to remind us of old stories. Are we sharing these stories with others?