{"id":2255,"date":"2005-05-09T11:05:06","date_gmt":"2005-05-09T16:05:06","guid":{"rendered":"\/?p=2255"},"modified":"2005-05-09T19:48:10","modified_gmt":"2005-05-10T00:48:10","slug":"blossoms-of-blue","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/timesandseasons.org\/index.php\/2005\/05\/blossoms-of-blue\/","title":{"rendered":"Blossoms of Blue"},"content":{"rendered":"

I don’t have a Mother’s Day post to contribute, really. Not a real one, anyway, and certainly nothing like the stories that three mothers have already posted here. But I do have a post that is tangentially Mother’s-Day-related. It’s mostly about a little girl.<\/p>\n

Well, about a song, too. The primary has been practicing the Mother’s Day song “I often go walking” for the past few weeks; yesterday we went to Relief Society and sang it for the women. And as primary pianist, I’ve been playing it during this time. The song begins with the lines “I often go walking in meadows of clover, and I gather armfuls of blossoms of blue.”<\/p>\n

Yesterday was also a day that 2-year-old Indigo wasn’t staying in nursery. Not that unusual, actually. Her brothers are in primary, and she wants to be there too. And when Indigo decides something, there’s often no convincing her. She’s an opinionated and articulate little girl, and quite a little handful. She trash talks something fierce; she’s completely loyal to her brothers, especially Kace, who routinely tortures her the way little boys do with their sisters. <\/p>\n

She also hugs spontaneously; comes up and climbs on to my lap and gives me little kisses; and smiles when I bounce her on my knee, or read to her, or roll the ball with her. Her hair is an endless swirl of light brown ringlets. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and breaks down in tears if she’s in trouble. And she knows that she has her dad completely wrapped around her little, little finger.<\/p>\n

Her name is Indigo Rose. And for the longest time, I’ve told her that she’s my little blue flower. She knows that that’s one of her nicknames. We have a little song that I made up that I sing for her, about a magic garden full of flowers, where the fairest flower is the indigo rose.<\/p>\n

And so, with Indigo Rose sitting in the front row, we sang about blossoms of blue. <\/p>\n

And now that I have my own blue flower, the lines of the old Mother’s Day song have taken on a different meaning. It has become a song about how I love my little girl. When I say “I gather armfuls of blossoms of blue” I’m singing about picking up my little girl, my little blue flower, Indigo Rose, and holding her, as I do every day. <\/p>\n

And the rest of the song takes on a different tint as well. “If I love blossoms, I learned how to love them, dear mother, from you,” continues the song. And that’s true as well. I love my little girl, I love my children. And it really is a skill that I learned from my own parents, from my own mother, and from the mother with whom I share these beautiful kids. <\/p>\n

One day Indigo will become a mother herself, and a bunch of unruly primary kids will probably sing “I often go walking” to her in Relief Society. But that won’t be the first time that song is sung for her. Because I’ve coopted it, and it’s mine as a father, to sing to my own little blossom of blue.<\/p>\n

\"Indigo\"<\/p>\n

UPDATE: My wife called me and said that I shouldn’t be using such an old picture of Indigo. (That was one on my computer at work, about a year old). So she e-mailed me this one, just a few months old. <\/p>\n

\"Indigo\" <\/p>\n

Hi there, Indigo!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I don’t have a Mother’s Day post to contribute, really. Not a real one, anyway, and certainly nothing like the stories that three mothers have already posted here. But I do have a post that is tangentially Mother’s-Day-related. It’s mostly about a little girl.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2255","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-corn"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/timesandseasons.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2255","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/timesandseasons.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/timesandseasons.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/timesandseasons.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/5"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/timesandseasons.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2255"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/timesandseasons.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2255\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/timesandseasons.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2255"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/timesandseasons.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2255"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/timesandseasons.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2255"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}