It feels like the right day to celebrate mothers, earthly and otherwise. After all, our roots are umbilically connected.
My mother used to love to tell this story about my early brush with the world of flowers.
One summer, when I was no more than six years old, she gave me an envelope full of marigold seeds and a few instructions on how to plant them. This being the first time in my life attempting any such thing, the task became a kind of slow-motion adventure. I dropped a few tiny seeds into a soil-filled terra cotta pot, watered it and set out the pot on the sunny stone wall outside the front door of our Toronto suburban home.