Our memories matter.  They can hold special moments that allow us to become who we are today.

These memories can bring gentle experiences to others who otherwise would not have known…

“My mom used to braid flower wreaths for me when I was little,” my daughter said.

My ears perked up. She remembers that? My smile was an outer reflection of my purring heart.

“Do you think you would like to make one?”

My youngest daughter smiled at this smaller child, her  little cousin, who lived in the city and had probably never seen a flower wreath in her life.

“Really?”

The brown eyed 8 year old, previously a bit bored, opened with curiosity. “She made you a wreath?”

“Yah, out of flowers, like those down there,” my daughter answered, pointing to the meadow below where daisies and lupine grew amongst tall summer grasses.

The guest house was surrounded by nature, nestled in a northern woods.

“I remember how we would pick the flowers and then my mom would braid me a wreath. I would wear it in my hair…”

And they were off.  Picking flowers from the abundant meadow below.

They returned sometime later with an armful of color.  Some may call these weeds, or fret about the mess it can make in the living room.  But here, there was no newspaper laid down to protect whatever needed protection from gorgeous wildflowers.

There was no mess.

There was only joy.

Moments that may seem small at the time allow others to remember acts of kindness.
A flower wreath, created on a summer’s day, long ago, lasted for a few days
and for the rest of my daughter’s life.  

The older one braided the grasses and flowers together.  I watched with great admiration.

The work of her hands was with the passion of an artist, the caring of a young mother and the kindness of the meadow itself.

She asked me how to finish up the circle.

“Oh just wrap some of the grasses around,” I smiled.  She had already figured that out.

The masterpiece splashed with overflowing flowers and grasses.  The brown eyed younger asked if these overflowing grasses could be trimmed. She wanted it to be more contained and refined.

I started to protest a bit, loving the wildness and the sprawl but my daughter, in her great wisdom softly replied, “It is your flower wreath, you can  have it however you like.  Everyone has preferences and yours are important.”

She handed her young cousin a pair of scissors while I again marveled at what was taking place on this summer morning.

The beauty of what we do may seem small.   We may forget these moments from long ago.
But to have the joy of watching as these times are mirrored back to us…

I am reminded that small acts of love create lasting differences.

As an artist and a writer, I have seen the impact of creative work in so many ways. The work of our hands can be as a balm, a soothing moment of peace and rest.

Nature can usher in that restful place, providing healing for the human spirit.

Diane Annie Mathias uses art and writing as a modality for self discovery, healing and renewal.
Her extensive work has spanned decades.  Her strong belief that creativity is a vital part of our existence continue to motivate her.