Wild Roses in June

June 5 will always be a special day in my heart. It is my mother's birthday. She was only 47 when she died, and she has been gone for nearly 70 years. I still remember her saying, "June is when the wild roses come out."

I see wild roses growing along the lane where I walk each morning, and I think about Mom and my childhood. Life on the prairies was much different than here in British Columbia. As kids, we wandered over the prairie behind our home and picked wild flowers -- it seemed like such a natural thing to do. Whatever I brought home would go in a vase on the kitchen table.

Do kids still bring their mothers Scotch thistles, grandfathers whiskers or Johnny-jump-ups? Do these wild flowers still exist, or have they vanished the way the prairies I played on have vanished.

I suppose as I grow older with more time on my hands, I can indulge and remember these times from long ago. I still remember telling my mother that I was just "going over the creek to play." What mother today would reply, "have fun, be home for dinner."