This is the first of a series of spontaneous essays, poems and teachings I am making while driving.
This one, "Gloves Off" is a poem about my mother and gardening.
Today, on Mother's Day, when I couldn't seem to find my way through a muck of sadness about not having a mom anymore, I struck out to the garden to move irises and weed.
Only half way through did I realize what I'd done - gone to the one place she loved to be:
gardening.
Gloves off by Miriam Hall
