"Mama, come quick," I called as the mama came through the door. As fast as the mama could, she climbed down the steps into the garage, took off her indoor slippers, and slipped into her outdoor shoes. She steadily made her way across the garage to the side door and then out behind me. I bounded ahead to the black compost tumbler by the fence and waited patiently for her to walk the short distance. As she reached me, I opened the compost maker door. "Look at this!" The mama peeked into the compost maker. I like to think I saw a tiny bit of surprise register on her stoical face. Ever the gardener, she said, "We'll plant them when they're stronger." Over 20 squash buds had sprouted in the dark, rich compost. Cool, huh? For the next few days, I'll be trotting outside first thing in the morning to open the compost maker door. That is, if the mama doesn't beat me to it.

If it's Tuesday morning, then it must be taking-picture day! The First Poppies Popping Out to Say "Hello, It's Spring !" The First Sweet Peas in Bloom on our Driveway Ringing in Spring Orchids in Bloom (Almost 3-year old plant. Thanks, again Kurt and Rudy!) Live Clams Waiting to be Cooked by the Mama The Morning Newspaper-Reading Husband

If you ask the mama how old she is, she will usually say, "I'm 100 years old." And, depending on who you are, she might give you a smile or a look that tells you she thinks you're a moron. So, how old is the mama? She has told me not to tell. But I can say that the mama is 30-some years older than me, and I'm already considered a senior by AARP. Age does not slow the mama down. The weather does. First it was rain, now it's the chilly wind that keeps her from spending all day playing outside in her garden patches. I'm grateful for that. The cold weather, that is. It buys the husband and me time to figure out how to prep a smaller vegetable garden space without it being too obvious. Her vegetable garden, you see, is practically the whole back yard. When the husband and I first moved in with the mama, we made a point of staying out of her garden. It is her domain, her zen, her centering place. With each year, though, I've been casually going out there a b