Whispers of Spring: A Gift from My Mother

Every spring, as the last whispers of winter fade, something extraordinary happens on my land. A field of wildflowers appears, soft pink flowers swaying gently in the breeze, untouched and unplanned.

I didn’t plant them. I never expected them. But one spring, while I was away at a photography retreat, my son sent me a photo of a breathtaking field of wildflowers. I immediately asked, “Where is this?” His reply took my breath away: “Right here, on your land.”

I turned to my friend, holding up the picture. With a smile, I whispered the only explanation that felt right—“I think my mom sent me flowers.”

The moment I saw them for myself, I felt my mother’s presence. She had passed away the winter before, and somehow, I knew these flowers were a gift from her—a quiet reminder that she was still with me. What makes it even more magical is that they only grow here. In all these years, I have never seen them bloom on any neighboring property, as if they belong to this land and this land alone.