(Many thanks to Marge Fulton for inspiring me to share these thoughts. Her poem Mums, The Last Dance is more than worth your time. http://www.authorsdencom/np.asp?id=236239 )

Every year I plant more Mums. Some I view as annuals bringing color back to a fading flower bed. But others, I will nurture year after year. As I see the Mums from last year starting their blooms for this one, I seem to have forgotten how cheery that shade of yellow was or how romantic those "Daisy Mums" with their hearts of gold and petals of dark lavender were.

Only people who plant in the fall, with only the hope of next year's beauty, demonstrate a true "faith". Bulbs and corms and mums give witness to our belief in rebirth. Mums especially test our faith. From that great Spring day when we first see them poking up again, until mid-summer, we must prune them. Keeping them short keeps them full and guarantees better blooms in Autumn. The Mums remind us that faith is not enough. They tell us that our good works are needed too.