It has been a long old winter. Not cold, no big freeze, just grey and a bit bloody miserable. I've thrown three big parties in the last three months; but it is still no compensation for the sunshine that has finally arrived and provided the mothers with their buggies walking under the cherry blossom a smile of genuine relief.

We are so fortunate to have the seasons. Parents often relish in the hibernation of shorter days and Saturday night TV, but there is a point, right about now, when children tug arms to spend the afternoon in the park and parents are ready to dust down bikes, scooters and rollerblades to get there.

Wimbledon Park, woods and common all lend themselves beautifully to family life. I often refrain from different clubs for kids at the weekend, as we mimic the life I had growing up from rambling, building dens, feeding ducks, running away from geese and big lunches together.

I was fortunate a few years ago to secure an allotment in Cottenham Park. My children and I often spend our weekends growing, picking or just simply pottering. This Mother’s Day weekend will be no different. For there is no greater gift than holding my children’s hands and picking the daffodils we planted together last autumn.

They have been in training the last few weeks to make toast, spread marmalade and pour apple juice for the special day. They are secretly making cards and are already excited about waking me up with their handmade gifts from school. Ignoring the clocks going forward this weekend, depriving mums of that extra golden hour in bed, it looks set to be a lovely Mothering Sunday.

The word mother lends itself to much more than the woman who gave birth to us or the children we cradled. Growing up, I was blessed with elder, wiser women who taught me something I pass on to my own children. Some took me in when I left home at 17, some inspired my love of art and culture, some still send me a very special birthday card every year. These are relationships of nurture that connect us to a world beyond technology.

We may have lost our own mothers, or a motherly figure. It could be a time to reflect or a time to rejoice. Mother/daughter relationships can certainly be testing, but more sure than not, it is the one person who loves us unconditionally and it is that love, we pass on down the generation and the younger minds in our community.

I wish every mother a moment of love and smiles this weekend, Happy Mother’s Day.