Overseeing his territory, amidst a tangle of branches festooned with newborn buds eagerly questing the promised warmth of the morning sun, the official messenger of spring cheerfully issues his proclaimation of its long awaited arrival.

Casting off the mantle of frost, the first flowers of the season, awakened from their cold, dark sleep, eagerly embrace the day, showing off their vibrant colours. Myriad insects begin their cycles, buzzing and flitting amongst the blooms in search of nectar.

Everywhere, the hustle and bustle of new beginnings herald the entrance of this glorious release from winter's grasp.

It seems fitting that on this wondrous day of rebirth, the first day of Spring, our beloved mother laid aside her long and exhausting battle with Hodgkin Lymphoma, slipping peacefully from the physical plain to reside in our memories forever.

The early clusters of daffodils, bright, yellow blooms, wafting their heavenly fragrance on the breeze are poignant reminders to me of her much-missed presence. Gazing at their beauty recalls moments in time, images of our mother at the organ, blissfully enthralled by the music, a tiny smile tugging at her mouth, nodding her head in time with the beat.

Music formed an integral part of our lives, and our family performed at numerous functions over the years - our mother at the organ, my sisters with their guitars, me supplying the percussion - all blended together with glorious harmonies.

Once such occassion, during a six hour ferry trip to Alaska for a performance, we decided to have lunch in the ship's cafeteria. While eating, I unfortunately bit the inside of my mouth, and as surreptitiously as possible, was exploring the wound with my finger. This, of course, evokted a rather strong reaction from my mother, an order to, "Take your fingers out of your mouth!" So I took a paper napkin and stuffed it in my mouth, hoping to ease the sting of the sore.

My action elicited a nod, and, "You should keep it there". Not being one to let sleeping dogs lie, I proceeded to slowly eat the paper, much like a turtle eating lettuce. The reaction from my family was more than I could have hoped.

Munching on the paper, I watched as my mother and sister laughed so hard that tears ran down their faces. All thoughts of decorum evaporated, as they held their sides, fighting to remain in their seats, while peels of laughter rang throughout the dining room.

Our mother fell in love with the picturesque beauty of Alaska, and took up residence in the city of Ketchikan, located on the Tongass Narrows. She lived in the large appartment building, shown in the picture above, second floor from the top, (the eleventh floor, large window in the center of the building,) that commanded a spectacular view of the surrounding city.

During one of the many trips to visit, my sister and I were taken out to dinner at the posh restaurant in town, The Narrows, in celebration of my birthday. At the end of a thoroughly delectable meal, the staff brought out a cake, topped with sparkling candles.

I was thrilled and suspiscious at the same time, knowing that my antics aboard the ferry during our last trip, were not forgotten. Sure enough, I detected a sparkle, shimmering just below the dancing flames and realized these were not ordinary birthday candles.

Making my wish, I followed the ritual by blowing out the candles, knowing full well that I wouldn't succeed. However, as they were rather short, and were dripping copious amounts of wax on the top of my prize, I had to think of some way to put them out.

Taking my spoon, I proceeded to snuff them out, one by one. Not only did they not co-operate, they were being driven deeper into the cake, and threatening to ruin the icing. All the while my mother, sister, and restaurent staff, were howling with laughter.

What tipped them over the edge was when I began spooning water onto the flames, because, of course, by this time I couldn't take them out without burning my fingers. This sent my family and the small group of onlookers into fresh gales of laughter. By the time I succeeded in snuffing out the candles, the entire group was holding their sides, tears streaming down their cheeks, laughing hysterically.

It was one of my finest moments.

Of the countless memories I have of our mother, these are the two that leap to mind every time I witness the rebirth of spring, with its glorious carpet of daffodils. Happy Mother's Day, Mom - we love you.