Because I can’t manage to pay attention to the weather forecast, I spent what passed for the nice day this weekend indoors and ended up planting my container garden in the pouring rain on Sunday afternoon. In my defense, Saturday was gray, cloudy, and cool, so mistaking it for a crappy day was pretty easy.

Provided that my poor plants didn’t drown in the 24 hours of rain that followed their move from their little garden-store pots into their big ones, I should have a pretty nice haul come August. Here’s what I planted:

Edible:

• grape tomatoes (two bushes)
• yellow bell peppers
• jalapeño peppers
• chili peppers
• basil (sweet, Genovese, and Thai varieties)
• rosemary (My old plant did not survive the winter, oddly enough, given that it was pretty mild and it had already lived through worse.)
• lemongrass
• Vietnamese coriander (This one is completely new to me, but its little stake said it could be used in place of cilantro, and since cilantro — which I love — grows badly in this climate, I thought I’d give it a try.)

Inedible, but pretty:

• red geranium (I initially thought I only wanted one, but it’s so lovely that I am going to do a window box of them too, I think.)
• superbelles (These look like miniature petunias, and are remarkably hardy — though they are annuals, a few survived the winter and were potted in with some newcomers in my hanging basket.)

Carryovers/Perennials:

• sage
• French tarragon
• thyme
• oregano
• mint

It’s one of those Mondays where it is challenging to think of beauty. Between the teeming rain, chilly temperature, nasty wind, and general gloom, it is more the sort of day where merely getting out of bed seems like an accomplishment. But I will try nevertheless, because I clearly I need to, given that intro.

So, here are three beautiful things from the past week:

1. My littlest nephew, H (cousin Common Loon’s 18-month-old) had pretty serious surgery on Tuesday to fix a birth defect, and came through it amazingly well. So much so, in fact, that he was running around the children’s playroom at the hospital as soon as the morphine wore off — and before they took the IV shunt out of his foot.

1. I noticed early last week that, seemingly overnight, the wild rosebushes in my neighborhood exploded into bloom, and when the azaleas are added in, my walk to the Metro was a riot of color for several days.

2. At the fundraiser I wrote about in last week’s My DC post, I managed to spill a not-insignificant quantity of red wine on my dress. Now, it was not anything fancy or expensive (from Target, about $25) but it was cute, so I was kinda pissed that I’d ruined it the first time I wore it. I decided on Saturday to see if soaking it in OxyClean — a product I love which has only ever let me down once — could get the stain out. I was not optimistic, knowing red wine’s tenacity, but it worked! My new dress will live to see another wearing.

I’ve written often about my dad here on the blog, since his death was one of the things that spurred me to start it. I haven’t, however, written much about my mom. Since she’s a frequent commenter, I’ve let her speak for herself. It’s also surprisingly awkward and intimidating to write about someone knowing that they will read it. But It’s Mothers’ Day, and I feel like it’s Mom’s turn to get her due here in blogland. So, here’s a little bit about the woman I am proud to call my mom.

Mom was born before the Baby Boom, and raised in in a very traditional, blue-collar way — girls grew up to be teachers and secretaries while waiting for their turns to be wives and mothers, and boys went to college, had careers, and left the child-rearing to the women. And while she had wonderful parents and a great upbringing, she very specifically chose a different path for her own family. I don’t know if my mom would call herself a feminist, but that is absolutely the way she raised us. I literally cannot think of a time when we weren’t told that we could be anything we wanted to be, and that it was important for us to think for ourselves, stand up for ourselves, and know how to support ourselves. (And if you know any of the three of us in the outside world, you know that we’re pretty independent and mouthy, so it may have worked a little too well.)

She led us by example by going back to work when we were in grade school; showing us that, yes, moms could have jobs, but that being super-woman and “having it all” — as was the trend in the 80s — was not easy. It involved everyone in the family, including Dad, contributing to the household, and we did — with varying degrees of success, I will admit. I never did quite get the hang of keeping my room clean, but I could (and can still) iron better and faster than most people.

Another important lesson I learned from my mom was not to mistake education for intelligence. She never had a chance to go to college, but is one of the smartest and most curious people I know. I think all of the lawyers she has worked for over the years would agree that, had circumstances been different, they would have been as proud to have her as a colleague as support staff. And more than a few of them might even admit that her smarts have, on many occasions, contributed directly to their success.

A long way of getting to my original point: Mom, you rock. I love you very much.

Happy Mothers’ Day!