Mom on the prairies. This is what a hay stack is supposed to look like

Mother’s Day is probably the most important day of the year according to Moms. It is the day we would like to hear thanks Mom for all you do. Nice idea. But how many small children really understand what Mom does, or what teenager cares? Knowledge about moms happens slowly with age and continues to grow until your mother has passed on to the other side. Then and only then do you realize that when you forget to put the sugar in homemade pumpkin pies there is no one to instantly call and get proper sympathy, after you have dumped three pies in the garbage. Or when you are running up the porch steps to fetch the car keys so your child will not be late for ball practice and you stub your finger into the railing, putting it temporarily in numbsville, never to be quite the same again. Mom should hear about that. My mom was prairie bred and raised. She was from the old school. We, her five children, were to love our Lord, our siblings, horses, our dad and bring her wild flowers on May Day.  And we did.  The following is how I remember Mom.  I miss her.

Mom, Norma and me

Mom and her side kick Mildred. New wigs and new homemade dresses. They were styling.