Oh what glorious sunshine! What beautiful blue skies!
A morning in Marjorie Tudor's garden is quite a lovely experience indeed.
Especially when she, like Tasha, shoo-s me out of the kitchen and into the garden while she creates breakfast. "The blender is noisy," she said, "Go enjoy the garden, and I'll bring it out to you." It so reminded me of Tasha, who used to do quite the same thing as she put the finishing touches on tea or a meal.
Of course, as I was thinking this, I found some Forget-me-nots tucked in the stonework. Forget-me-nots, indeed, Tasha, dear.
Violets and Forget-me-nots
Then Marjorie ushered me to the beautiful wooden swing in the lower garden, on the edge of the sheep field, overlooking her pond and budding apple tree. She handed me this petite Blue Canton cup with a purple-hued liquid, and urged me to take a sip. Cautiously, I lifted the smooth rim to my mouth and sipped the drink, underlined with a hint of green and a slight bite. She watched my face. I nodded and we said, "Spinach," at the same time. We laughed, and then both proceeded to finish our refreshing morning drinks.
I felt a deep gratefulness for this moment--my back on the warm wood of the swing, my hand cupped around a smooth china cup filled with a healthy tonic, my face soaking up the delicious rays of spring sun. I think Marjorie and I would have been quite content to stay there as the morning hours stretched into afternoon, alternating gentle conversation with pauses of inner contemplation.
But, as they so often do, chores and art and the daily-ness of living called to us, so we rose, and parted ways. Content, inspired, uplifted--ready to face chores, art, and that daily-ness of living with renewed vigor.