Whispers of Spring: A Gift from My Mother
Every spring, as the last whispers of winter fade, something extraordinary happens on my land. A field of wildflowers appears, soft pink flowers swaying gently in the breeze, untouched and unplanned.
I didn’t plant them. I never expected them. But one spring, while I was away at a photography retreat, my son sent me a photo of a breathtaking field of wildflowers. I immediately asked, “Where is this?” His reply took my breath away: “Right here, on your land.”
I turned to my friend, holding up the picture. With a smile, I whispered the only explanation that felt right—“I think my mom sent me flowers.”
The moment I saw them for myself, I felt my mother’s presence. She had passed away the winter before, and somehow, I knew these flowers were a gift from her—a quiet reminder that she was still with me. What makes it even more magical is that they only grow here. In all these years, I have never seen them bloom on any neighboring property, as if they belong to this land and this land alone.
Each May, I eagerly await their arrival, just as I would a cherished visit from an old friend. This time of year has also become my favorite season to offer Fine Art Wildflower Sessions. One of the first sessions I ever did in this magical field was of my grandson and his best friend, playing among the blooms, lost in the joy of childhood. Even now, after all these years, that session remains my absolute favorite—a moment frozen in time, wrapped in the beauty of nature and the love of family.
This field of wildflowers is more than just a backdrop for my art; it’s a reminder of love, of unexpected beauty, and of the quiet miracles life gives us when we least expect them. And every time they bloom, I whisper a quiet “thank you” to my mother, knowing she’s still watching over me.