Welcome to end to the night. I'm Nari, your guide on to day's excursion down a twisted path. Be careful not to get lost. Be it dark or light, it's easy to lose your way. Are you ready? Then let's begin? How does your garden grow? Part? One? For as long as she could remember, Mary Reynolds loved plants. When she was a little girl, she watched her mother care for the flowers and vegetable gardens
on their property, and she delighted in helping any time she could. She learned early how to tell the difference between weeds and desired plants, and soon her mother trusted her to tend the gardens alongside her. Mary, you have a natural knack for growing things. Young Mary would smile and bask in the attention her green thumb gave her. She loved the time she spent with her mother, and as an added reward, her mother planted Mary's favorite flowers and
vegetables. Your bachelor buttons are coming along nicely, aren't they. The bright blue flowers brought a whimsical feel to the little girl's garden patch. Yes, mamma, they make me happy. Colleen Reynolds didn't mind indulging her daughter's love for flowers. She loved them herself, as had her mother and grandmother, and she delighted in the joy Mary found in them. It's good for a
person to nurse her plants and to dig in the soil. It keeps us connected to the earth, and too many children these days don't get outside enough. Mary didn't know much about other children, but it made her sad to think that not everyone bonded with nature the way she and her mother did.
Say my nursery rhy Mamma. Colleen smiled at her little girl and took her by the hand, swinging it as she recited the poem Mary Mary contrary, How does your garden grow with silver bells and cockle shells and pretty maids all in a row? Mary giggled, and Colline wiped a wisp of hair from her daughter's face. Only you are a very good girl, and not contrary at all. Colleen put her arm around Mary. Now, how about we go inside and get lunch started. Mary nodded happily and skipped alongside her mother
as they walked across the lawn to their farmhouse. Mary hopped up each of the porch steps while Colleen patiently held her hand and waited on her to make it all the way to the wooden wrap around porch. The little girl looked over her shoulder for one more view of her flowers. Bees and butterflies flitted from blossom to blossom, and a gentle breeze carried the earthy smells of fresh dirt and early summer. Mary watched the breeze move through the leaves on the
basswood tree. Its boughs waved back and forth. She smiled and waved back. Colleen held open the screen door. Come on, let's get you inside. Do you want to help me make cinnamon rolls after lunch? This caught Mary's attention. Cinnamon rolls are my favorite. I happen to know that. The two of them laughed, and Mary made another hop up the step into the house to the kitchen. My little hoppy frog. This made Mary even
happier. She loved frogs and didn't mind the comparison one bit. Now as an adult, Mary treasured those care free childhood days for the rest of her life. I was lucky to grow up in the country with a mamma who devoted herself to me. Not everyone gets to enjoy a simple, happy childhood like mine. Warm days working in the garden or picking wild flowers in a field, making cinnamon rolls or cookies, and having the freedom to just be
a kid. Those are experiences every child should have. She stood on the wooden porch, remembering countless childhood memories spent on the farm. Nearly all of them were Goody brought about many changes, however, and now her mother was ill. Colleen's decline was the most difficult change to accept. At eighteen, Mary left home to attend college. She'd married at twenty two and divorced at
thirty two. She'd lived many places, but this was always home. Carrying for Colleen in the house she grew up in was not what Mary had expected to be doing at this point in her life, but it was where she was supposed to be. I'm so glad I have a career that allows me to work remotely. Mom has done so much for me, and I need to be here during these last difficult years for her. It's where I belong. She looked out over the farm. The red Yankee barn stood starkly against
the blue sky. The basswood tree at the far end of the side yard loomed large. Its canopy of branches provided shade for her as a little girl, and it still made the wooden yard swing beneath it look inviting. The vegetable garden was smaller than usual this year, but Mary couldn't worry about that right now. Between work and the care she gave to her mother, Mary simply didn't have time to grow a large one. The flower gardens, however,
were a vibrant reminder of years passed. The blooms were in full glory now, and Mary made a habit of bringing her mother fresh bouquets to brighten her days. Her mother's voice had weakened in recent weeks, and Mary was thankful they had thought of a way she could summon Mary for help. The gentle tinkling sound in the background alerted her to her mother's call. The small silver bell by the bedside was Colleen's signal to Mary that she needed help.
Sometimes she needed another dose of pain medication, Sometimes she simply wanted to talk. Mary brought the bouquet of flowers she'd picked with her in a vase as she entered her mother's room. The picture window sat slightly open, and the curtains billowed in the breeze. The lilac paint on the walls matched the purple hues and the floral duveay covering the bed. As sick as Colleen was, she still found comfort in the beauty around her. Yes, mamma, it's
a lovely day outside. I can smell the freshly cut grass and the flowers through the window. That breeze is wonderful. Colleen took a deep breath and smiled. It's a beautiful day, mamma. I brought you a new bouquet. Colleen sat up to smell the flowers. Those are gorgeous. Thank you. The bachelor buttons she had a pretty splash of blue. Are you comfortable? Do you want me to bring you anything to eat or drink? Colleen patted the edge of the bed. No, I just want to spend some
time with my girl. You're in luck, then, because I would love to spend time with you. They both chuckled. We've used that line for years, and it's still true. Colleen squeezed Mary's hand. It will always be true. She looked around at the plants filling nearly every corner of her room. It makes me feel better to have them with me. This practically looks like a flower shop in here. Maybe we could open one on the side, She teased. I wouldn't want to part with any of them.
Each one is special. A tear escaped her eye. It's so sweet of you, Mary, to make my room such a comforting place. You know how much I love plants. I wish, Mary patted her mother's arm. I know, Mamma, I wish you could garden again too. I'd love to feel the dirt in my hands and the sun on my face. I missed the shade of the basswood tree. I played under it as a little girl, just like you did when you were young. That tree has watched
over our family for a couple of generations. Colleene looked wistfully out the window. From where she lay. She could see her favorite tree swaying in the wind. Just look at how peaceful and inviting it is now. Mary had a tear in her eye. We both love the base would very much. I can't help but think that it loves us too. Colleen turned her head and looked at her daughter. I do too, Mary. We're lucky to have it here with us. Say, would you mind bringing me some soup?
I think I'm up to eating now. Of course, chicken noodle or vegetable beef chicken noodle. After all, it's no one we knew. The two women broke into laughter years ago. A farside cartoon brought that line into their family vocabulary. Mary remembered the frame well. One chicken lay under the covers in bed, and another stood in the doorway holding a tray with a steaming bowl of soup on it. The caption read number one, it's good for you. Number two it's nobody we knew. Mary and Colleen laughed many
times through the years over that one. I'll be right back with your soup. Ten minutes later, Mary returned to Colleen's room. Her mother peacefully slept with her face turned toward the open window. The breeze blew whisps from Colleen's hair across her forehead, and her hand gently held a long vine that extended from the philodendron's plant growing on the stand next to her bed. Its stems and leaves intertwined with Colleen's fingers. A slight smile spread across the sleeping woman's
lips. Mary gently closed the bedroom door and turned to take the soup back to the kitchen, sleep well and sweet dreams, Mamma. Mary leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. If only there was a way I could bring her back to health. She misses her garden and taking walks through the countryside. It breaks my heart to see her so lonely for nature. Her
mother's sadness weighed heavily on Mary as she quietly walked down the hallway. Feeling a bit hungry, she heated leftovers from last night's dinner and went to the living room to relax and enjoy her meal. She turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. A commercial, one of those pharmaceutical ads, caught her attention. It wasn't the drug, she noticed, however, it showed a smiling woman being pushed down a path to enjoy the outdoors. That's it.
I'll build a path from paving stones and we'll take Mamma for outings around the farm in her wheelchair. Why haven't I thought of this before? Mary made a list of the materials she needed. She knew it would be time consuming and construction materials weren't cheap, but she had a plan. I'll build it one section at a time. Mary went to the door to the porch and looked out across the field. I know exactly where I'll built the first
path to the basswood tree. It's branches swirled excitedly in the wind. Yes, sweet basswood tree, I'm excited too. Mary laughed aloud. If anyone heard me talking to myself and the basswood, they cart me off to the looney bin. She didn't care how silly she sounded, though. For the first time in months, she knew of a way to brighten her mother's last day. She may not have much longer, but I'm going to make sure she's happy during the time she has left. After making sure Colleen finally ate
her bowl of soup, Mary reheated for her. She hugged her mother good night and went to bed. Visions of the projects she had planned played through her mind as she drifted off to sleep. Thank you for joining me for this episode of the Into the Night Anthology podcast. Written by Caroline Giamanco, narrated by Nari Kwak. Theme music by Nico Rodriguez. All other original music, sound design and editing by Omenhawk Studios. You can find our links in
the show notes. Into the Night is on your favorite podcatcher, so make sure to like, subscribe, and leave a five star review to help other excursionists to join us. I'll see you next time, and remember, whether in the shadows or in the daylight, all twisted paths lead you into the night. Into the Night Anthology is a creative typo entertainment production