I’m in the woods behind the lake, enjoying the first real day of spring. My cell phone pings a message, and I answer immediately because texting is the way Diane and I make sure each other is OK when I am in the woods.
The message is a forwarded statement from the Prime Minister on Mother’s Day. The person who forwarded it is someone I greatly respect, and that person is not amused. I read why.
“Our Government recognizes the importance of supporting mothers both at home and abroad,” reads the PMO statement. “We are showing true leadership on the world stage by taking tangible and practical measures . . . .”
I want to puke, but don’t want to spoil the budding wildflowers.
I thought we were done with that nonsense. The man has a majority government for the next four or five years and is sitting pretty to govern instead of playing political games.
I think of my wife, three daughters, daughter in law, sisters -- all wonderful moms who deserve a day of recognition. I think of my mom, who taught me how to love the woods, and I am insulted.
Could not the message from the Prime Minister simply have been: “Thanks to all moms. We appreciate all the sacrifices you make for us. We love you all and hope you have a wonderful Mother’s Day.”
However, it’s too good a day to remain upset by a boneheaded statement from the PMO. A prehistoric-looking pileated woodpecker is hammering a dead tree off to my right. The trilliums near my feet are starting to bloom. And at the edge of a little clearing, daffodils, presumably carried into the woods by a thieving squirrel, are beaming bright yellow. They’ve grabbed the first warm sunshine of this spring, and are broadcasting it to the birds and animals, and to the trees, which are yawning and still not quite awake from winter’s sleep.