Sunday morning found me walking to the Westover Farmer’s Market, through Mother Nature’s slant on things in an urban environment. An environment a bit different than I have become accustomed to.

Some of the trees, shrubs, flowers, familiar – from my childhood. The Japanese Red Maple brought back memories of a tree that my parents planted at the house where I grew up. A small tree with dainty, elegant, deep rich red leaves. That yard, from years ago – I think I could still map out each of the many trees that were within its boundaries.

The beautiful Springstar blooms, I don’t recall ever seeing before. In one patch, they covered a wide swath of not yet mowed grass. Perfect timing for the blooms since the grass was still in sleepy mode and was only just beginning to think of growing.

There were, of course, plants that I see everyday in my mountain woods. Maples with smooth, silvery bark. Samaras, which I called helicopters, long before I knew the word samara.

Honeysuckle, which is all too abundant in both this urban setting and in the mountain setting that I am used to. Honeysuckle growing rapidly, making it difficult for native plants to get a foothold in the competitive world of nature.

Lilacs, which I used to associate with Mother’s Day, but look it is blooming now. Perhaps my childhood home is a bit further north than this setting, or is this a sign of climate change, or a sign of memories a bit askew?

A Camelia, which makes me think of how fussy they always seemed to be, trying to bloom when it was still much too cold. Now in my mountain home, I try for plants that are native to that mountain, things that have proven to be survivors. Things that don’t have to be fussed over. I want to be out taking photographs, not fussing in the garden!

Small native trees like Redbud, require no fuss. They are everywhere along the road up to my cabin. Planted there by Mother Nature. I’m glad to have her on my side.

Mother Nature has a large team of assistants. Squirrels who collect nuts in the fall, bury them and often leave them to grow. Squirrels in this urban setting are much more bold than the ones I’m used to now. Country squirrels don’t wait to see what you are up to, they scurry quickly at the least little bit of movement.

On the way home, the obligatory stop at the park brings joy to everyone. Smiles all around. No farmer’s market on my mountain. No playground to delight, but oh, so many other things to lighten my heart!