Thoughts for Mother's Day, and some pictures of Gardens. Some may hear the call of a father in the wilds of their heart. I, however, have always heard the call of the mother. I have heard the call of the mother in her winds that will take my breath to the old Florida racoons and the running white tailed dear of the forest and woods. I hear the call of the mother in the sunlight streaming through her canopy of trees that will carry my drink through rain and snow and quench the thirst of the…