In the garden, there is a tiny root of aster, that was ever also blooming in my old home. My mother made much of it. So the flowers had increased year by year.
Recently in my garden, I found out that the way of mother was one of the most important style for really loving the flowers. The tiny root someday will become more flourishing without clearly noticing if one really cultivate it. This truth is the gift from mother, noticing much too late for me.
SRFLData 
Pingback: Celebrating Summer’s Cessation with a poem… | 4writersandreaders