Oh, just making tea for anyone who is willing to drink squishy over-ripe tomato water.
this afternoon at the table —
the table around which so much centers:
family meals, conversations,
stories, questions, projects, colors, abundance . . .
Our couch may be tattered
and our table may be worn,
but we are here living together
with our hearts open
and our eyes filled with wonder.
We took a wrong turn on the way to the blueberry farm. The blueberries were mushy. Mosquitos swarmed us, especially little Wallace with his milky baby blood. I had dressed for an overcast morning not for full sun at noon. Our lunch was soggy and Wallace wet his pants.
But we were with Grandfather. And being with Grandfather makes everything better. Conversations with him during the long car ride there and back again made it all worthwhile.
(I still wish we had come home with a basket of better blueberries. . . )
Early on Saturday morning, Grandmommy arrived with flowers and her gift for making beautiful floral arrangements. She and the girls worked together to create thirty-some bouquets for the Art Festival. Watching them create floral art together in the morning light was a beautiful image that I carried with me all day . . . and well into the next.
Later that evening, the dolls had a romantic dinner under the canopy of the leftover bouquets.