Here it is Mother’s Day, and I must say it’s been emotionally challenging today. This is my first one without a mother. Grief has some interesting twists and turns. However, everything seems right in the world for the moment. We had a lovely rain last evening and full-on beautiful sun and sky for the Sunday festivities. Son Reuben and grandson Christian gave me several hours of brawn. There is always something heavy to move around at my place. I’ve finally accepted the limitations of this aging body and no longer try to do it myself.

My first cousin Nathaniel and I used to spend every waking hour together in the summertime. Our mornings were at the Chilmark Community Center running after perfect spirals from the Rev. John Taylor on the football field. Players were encouraged to be barefoot and the game was not over until the noon whistle was no longer audible to our eagerly searching ears.

Apparently I have an aversion to following my own advice. I decided to peruse some of my mid-May columns from years past. I was hoping to plagiarize myself. Last year I lamented how things have changed in the world. Honestly, how old am I? I commented on geraniums, impatiens and tomato plants for sale and how I believed the purchasers would be sorry. They never are and I never put those annuals into open ground until almost Memorial Day.

The month of May has to get the Academy Award in the garden year. I try to notice particularly nice displays as I drive around and make weekly written comments. At the moment everything is simply lovely.

Cynthia Shilling has a magnolia soulangeana easily as big as her house. Nestled in with azaleas and forsythia, it screams May.

Rainy Day has some great window boxes with deep pink English daisies and lime green lettuce. Check it out.

My father and I went to the Turkish baths in the East Village of Manhattan this past February, our first time together in a city that has influenced my life almost as much as he has. The sun was shining brightly, the temperature hovered in the high thirties while the wind blew briskly down city blocks and flung itself around corners, stopping us occasionally in our tracks as we meandered south after exiting the subway. A short flight of marble stairs led us into the baths.

I did a lot of gardening this past week for self protection. I seemed unable to resist the temptation of television or radio news following the events of the Boston Marathon bombings. Keep in mind, this column is always a week delayed. Emotionally and spiritually there is no place like outdoors with no technology or media crowding the brain.