OBSESSION OR LOVE  (Part Two)

It has been just over two months since I last posted! I haven’t been ill or lazy; just crazy busy.  In April and early May, I was finalizing the editing of my new book, Untethered: A Memoir. It was exhausting, frustrating, but also very exciting to be so close to finishing. Then the manuscript went to Mary Gillilan, a friend, an editor, and a creative designer. I loved working with her, seeing the process of putting a book together. The layout was great; she did the hard work, I just asked for more! Adding the photos was the BEAR! They were old, faded, and in albums. Mary had a great scanner for those. Then there were slides from over fifty years ago; those had to go through a special photography shop and cost too much money.  Now we are in the final part—it is mid-June—sending the manuscript off to the Self-publishing and Distribution Company, Ingram Sparks. Of course, nothing is quite right—the dpi of the photos, the size of the book, the cover overlay, etc etc. We spent hours and hours together. The most exciting part was that our two dogs, Henry and Betty, got to spend time together and go on walks when Mary and I needed a break. FINALLY, I have a copy of my finished book in my hands. It is available on Amazon, although the official publishing date is July 17th. I have a box of books coming, and will be having a friends and neighbors gathering in a month. A presentation at our local bookstore will follow sometime soon—the date is still pending.

MEANWHILE—in between all those hours of being in front of a computer, I have hosted two “Teas in the Garden,” for over twenty people at a time, as a fundraiser for Bellingham at Home—a voluntary organization which supports the aging in their homes. In addition to the money I raise, I only realized today, the amount of accumulated hours I put in shopping, cooking, and hosting. It was about fourteen hours per tea!

IN THE GARDEN

Then there is the time I spend in the garden. Two days ago, I decided to reduce a part of the garden by approximately eighteen inches to accommodate another two chairs around a table. It sounded like so little work, I thought I would be finished in a few hours. I ended up working from 11:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. with only a short break in the middle. I had to remove rocks and plants. Cut bricks and rubberized edging. Then replace it all, redo an irrigation line, and add gravel under the bricks and edging. Deadheading is a lot easier, although the cleaning and separating of the bearded Iris is time-consuming. The garden is now full of blooming Crocosmia, Echinacea, Hydrangeas, Lilies, and Roses.

THE BLUE BOTTLES WRITING STUDIO

We have come to a pause in our gatherings—too many people are away, and I have been busy, but I have still been writing occasionally, working slowly on the possibility of a next book. What follows is my latest piece of writing.

PROMPT: WHAT MAKES ME SMILE?

With so much destruction and hate going on in the world today, I sometimes find it hard to smile. But it is the small things that bring pleasure. Waking in the morning to gentle sunlight hitting the crystals hanging in my bedroom window, their light dancing across the room, over the floor, and onto the bedcovers. Watching Henry perform his ritual dance across the living room carpet when we get up, and I say, “Ready to go for a walk?”

There are also the rare times my dear friend visits from Olympia, like this morning. We sit outside my back door, drinking coffee in the sunshine and eating the ham and egg croissants she brought. We discuss family, friends, plants, HOA’s and house prices. My friend asks about my garden, “What will you do when you can no longer manage the maintenance?” “I’m already wondering that myself,” I say. “I’m uncluttering the garden every time I’m out there working.” I am lucky. I have new neighbors who want to create a lovely garden—a place for my removed plants to continue to grow. That makes me happy.

I generally don’t like the rain; I find it hard to walk with Henry, who seems to dislike wet weather. He’d rather stay inside all day than get wet. However, I enjoy waking up knowing it rained overnight. The air feels fresh. The rising sun highlights water droplets shimmering on spider-spun webs. The flowers radiate a vibrant wash of clean color, and I sense the renewed life flowing and swirling around the garden rooms of flowers and tchotchke I have half-hidden for added interest.

I have a large oak table where I sit and write, or gaze out of the window at the garden, and occasionally see hummingbirds dart into the fuchsia bush. It was a gift from my sister, Anne, over fifty years ago when she moved from England to live in Canada. I was recently married and needed a sturdy, reliable table. I don’t need to see the wood beneath the plain green tablecloth. My memories take me back to the large stone house in Slapton, the warmth from the Aga range filling the kitchen. Mummy is making tea, and Daddy is excited about the mushrooms he found on his walk through the countryside. Gerry, Anne’s husband, is teaching their son, Bruce, about electronics—a rare moment in their lives. Lorna is out in the garden pruning the apple tree, and Anne is pinning large printed labels on furniture for Jeanne-Marie, her daughter with severe learning disabilities, to learn from. 

Bruce and I are the only ones still alive now, but once, a lifetime ago, we all gathered around my table. Back then, it was bare of polish, scrubbed clean, and unadorned.

It makes me smile sitting here in a different country, living a very different way of life from those years. To know that the simplest things can still bring me joy. I wrote a short poem about my table and the cups that sit on a shelf, waiting to have hot tea sipped from their bone china edges.

Old Oak Table.

Tongued, grooved 

And polished. Its

Beauty fills the room,

Large and rectangular,

Entertains six or eight for tea. 

Bone China Teacups

Memory lingers, 

Whilst washing up,

A dozen pretty cups. 

Their matching saucers

Make a set,

An attractive duet,

Sitting on a wooden table,

Ready to serve tea

Of any variety.

With intricate delicacies, 

Friends gather with ease,

To sample.

A dozen pretty cups and saucers.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed my writing, please check out my latest book, Untethered A Memoir, which explores m