WILMINGTON --
Away from the whooshing rides and the clusters of flirting
teenagers, nowhere near the stage on which a band was playing
live music, current and former children searched Saturday
for small ways to express their love for their mothers.
It was the final day of the 88th Wilmington Flower Market,
and Rockford Park was teeming with visitors. The mostly
cloudy afternoon was a welcome shift from Friday's rain,
the latest instance of the wet misfortune that seems always
to accompany the three-day event.
As Mother's Day approached, nothing indicated women were
being pampered. In fact, mothers (and a few considerate
fathers) busily shifted from steering strollers to paying
for popcorn to corralling escaped offspring.
But adults weren't the only busy ones.
Lois Stanley helped her 12-year-old grandson Brad Cook find
a potted flower for his mother. His brother was hunting
for a gift elsewhere on the grounds.
They'd been there all day. Brad already had played carnival
games, challenged his stomach with a few fast-moving rides
and chomped on some food.
Now it was time to get something for his mom. It took him
10 thoughtful minutes to spot the most colorful geranium
-- Brad passed by the white and the red, selecting instead
the bright pink.
Beneath a nearby merchant tent, Amy James and Anita Burgess-Kulp
shared space for their two businesses. James is proprietor
of Unique Pewter. Burgess-Kulp, owner of Burgess Designs,
is a goldsmith. Earlier in the day, they recalled, two Centreville
boys, both around 12 years old, scouted potential Mother's
Day gifts.
One boy chose a hand-painted porcelain lemon plate. Burgess-Kulp,
figuring the boy could impress his mother with a bit of
background, told him it was made in the 19th century.
"I don't care," he replied. "I don't like
history."
Fair enough.
He asked his friend if he had found anything for his mother.
Yeah, the other boy said. He'd found a necklace. But he
didn't have enough money to buy it.
"Hey, I've got some left over," his friend said,
and he handed him $6.
One tent away, meanwhile, Bill Turnbull browsed the tables
with his wife Becky and their 2-year-old son, Andrew. They
live in Kennett Square, Pa., but Turnbull, 32, was raised
in Wilmington. He remembers heading to the flower market
with friends after classes at Salesianum School.
Fourteen years later, he keeps coming back.
Andrew, via his father, already had picked up a gift for
his mom. So Turnbull needed only to find something for his
own mother, a former volunteer at the event.
He bought eight small herb plants -- some parsley, oregano,
thyme, rosemary and sage -- and said he would plant them
in a big pot. Andrew would decorate it.
All the while, short messages blared from a public address
system. For a dollar, people wrote messages that Dawn Welch
had the honor of reading -- more than 200 through the day.
Asked whether any kids had handed her notes she couldn't
in good conscience broadcast to the mixed crowd, she wasted
no time with a response: "Absolutely."
"Some kids try to be clever with the wording,"
said Sandi Bihary-Waltz, the event's volunteer co-chairwoman,
seated beside Welch. "I think they forget they're talking
to an adult."
Most of the announcements, however, were simple and sweet.
Like this one, which could have spoken for countless girls
at the flower market: "I love you, Mommy. Just fulfilling
tradition. Your middle daughter."
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