This week has been a bit too busy for my liking. It seems every day, after work just held some unpleasant task for me to tend. So far, there has been a car repair, car inspection and paying taxes. I wouldn’t complain at all, if I had been buying those chrysanthemums or picking pumpkins, though, I would have been just as busy. I am much better suited for things like that. I still have two more items to complete that are “business related” tomorrow. Thank Goodness, for a tea cup and a ginger lily -what a sweet difference they made, this week!
A friend of mine, took a trip to the mountains- The Blue Ridge mountains, of North Carolina. Melissa is young enough to be my daughter, but has an old soul, I am sure. We love the same things, from chickens to the Brandenburg Concertos-and a lot in between. On Tuesday, she gave me the sweetest china teacup. She had searched the many antique stores, along the parkway to find one with flowers and birds on it. I had never spoken of my obsession with old china with her, yet she knew. It is a wonderful feeling to know she thought of me, while in far away hills and valleys. It is a pretty little china cup and I took a fancy to it right away.
People used to set such store in pretty dishes. I wonder when it went out of fashion to have a pretty supper table. A table set properly with even an everyday china makes a meal an occasion-and coffee in a china cup tastes better, I believe. Besides all that- It is a lot more enjoyable to wash dishes if there are dainty pink roses on them .
I am noticing the sycamores are casting less shade daily. They make a frightful mess of things, with their huge leaves which curl as they dry. Still, I have no quarrel with the sycamores. We are old friends with a long history of summer afternoons . I have sought refuge in their shade and watched the stars come out, while sitting beneath them. The sidewalk to the backdoor is dependably cool, because of the sycamores.
The details of the week, have made for some long days. I do not tarry from the car to the stove, and only glance around the rabbit patch, before going in. One such day, a familiar scent, faint and sweet, came my way. I went straight-away to the bed of ginger lilies. A lone bloom had sweetened the air and I breathed it in deeply. I had all but given up, weeks ago on the tall green stalks producing their ordinary little blossoms full of fragrance, yet here was one leaning against an empty birdhouse, and it made a difference in my walk-I slowed right down.
I saw the “silver apples of the moon” late that night. The night air was cool when I turned my thoughts to things to be glad for . . . .like friends that care enough to look for china teacups with flowers and birds adorning them, just because you love them-and a ginger lily blooming . . . because you love them too.