Forget me not

Thirty-nine years today since my mum died, far too young, aged only 50.
It's strange not having an older image in my mind of the person I might become as I grow older.
She'd have enjoyed my walk on Kinnoull Hill today, so many blues and purples.
Not just the forget me nots, but also the dog violets, the rhododendrons , the bluebells and the periwinkles all backed by the sounds of birdsong, running water and the hollow sound made by feet walking on ground covered in old beech nuts and leaves.
She loved being out and about in the countryside, enjoying our beautiful world. There's nothing like a mum!