Drink Tea and Talk Nice

My friend, Evelyn, and I had a "tea for two" party at her house. I wore my new straw hat with the high crown, 4" sloping brim, and wide black ribbon with a flat bow, a long blue flax skirt and blue linen blouse. I felt "Southern". I don't remember what she wore. It's her complexion that catches my attention. It's to die for: peachy and without a single line.

Welcoming Petunias spilled out of front porch containers sharing their sweet summer fragrance on a hot spring afternoon.

Her cottage is decorated in white, crisp and subtle blues. I could live on her large screened-in porch with its swing and ceiling fan.

We "took" tea in her dining room. She served icy cold lemon and black tea. Refreshing! We shared cucumber sandwiches on savory sesame crackers with a smidge of sour cream and dill weed, and nibbled cold oven almond pound cake. We talked recipes, family and friendship. She brought out her latest commissioned needlepoint project. Over the years several churches have commissioned her to needlepoint kneeling bench pads and other projects. She paints free-hand on wooden eggs for any occasion, too. I celebrate her creativity!

Rose-like double impatience grace her shaded and fenced-in back yard of little paths between the monkey grass. There was "something" growing at every turn. Her green thumb is evident inside and out.

Lace-cap hydrangea centers remind me of elderberries that grew wild in
Nebraska. Grandma and I used to ride through the country side searching the ditches. It was a dusty job collecting them. All our efforts netted a few half-pints of jelly, but our time together was priceless.

Hydrangeas peeked around the corner of her house. So brilliantly colored, who could ignore them? I grew them in NE and saw houses surrounded with hydrangeas on Nantucket. They are voluptuous fresh and dry well.

We had a pleasant afternoon. A tea party represents a slower, kinder time. I'd like to have a cottage by the sea like Evelyn's, where I could drink tea with friends, retreat, read, write and rewrite to my heart's content and take walks on the beach. I'm putting it on my bucket list.

2013 Red Convertible Travel Series

Monday Night Pearl Party table

The dining room table was set with sailboat placemats and lighthouse napkin rings from Nantucket, Pfaltzgraf Sierra Cobalt and 1847 Rogers flatware. Grandmother Williamson's red glass swan floated six red roses. Kim stripped another bloom and spread the petals. Bernie brought the dark fuschia bouquet. The square red candles and freshwater pearls were Krysia's. She would like that and the food, too. Classical music by KVNO. And butter, real butter, in honor of Julie and Julia.

2010 Red Convertible Travel Series

Around the World on a Bowl of Stew

It's snowing out. Three to four inches expected. Dunking La Brea Pane Toscano in my homemade stewed tomato, cod and shrimp stew, I looked around my kitchen, the extent of my travels for the moment.

Framed hundred-year-old colored magazine prints from Hay-on-Wye, Wales, feature chickens. A pair of black and whites with hats hang opposite a pair of black and whites with feathered feet. I can hear the hen's gentle voice calling her chicks and the rooster's bellowing crow over his proud family.

The print of an outdoor Paris flower market at the end of the table fills my mind with scents of lillies and daises. I want to sit at the umbrella table, sip coffee and eat chocolate filled croissants - several. The horse drawing the buggy leaves its own aroma. The pigeons are drawn to the beauty and possibility of crumbs.

My Nantucket switchplate lookes like scrimshaw on whale bone. I think it's plastic. The whaling ship is standing still or I might get seasick just looking at it.

Three two-inch square Dutch tiles display windmills, a small sailing boat, typical miniature houses, marshes and water in shades of blue. The sky is musty grey. Nothing dries outside. We collapsed a clothesline trying. I appreciate the contribution the Dutch have made to the world through flowers.

There's a card on the table with Mississippi cardinals. Brandi says when you see a cardinal, make a secret wish.

I met Mae from Ireland in London at Harrod's fresh fish display. We marveled at the fresh fish nailed up in a sunburst pattern. She crocheted the tea cozy and sent it.

There's a miniature Mexican coastline mural on the wall complete with parasail reminding me of winter vacations spent in swim suit and caftan, cliff divers, table dancers, silver jewelry, too much fresh fruit, grilled seafood and lazy days. Aaaaaahhhhh.

The French espresso cups remind me of Paris - again. At every turn I found a warehouse of information. It was like coming home.

There's a Chinese calendar on the wall. I have yet to walk the Great Wall.

I lift my cup of Chai tea to travels of the past and those to come.

copyright 2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

NANTUCKET: Ghosts and Gams

Wind rustling the leaves, mist, salt air, light fog, and set-stillers spell Halloween on Nantucket. I dressed for the occasion in my black tights with little white ghosts, black boots, skirt, four-ply cashmere sweater, and painted a tiny ghost on my face. 

At the Whaling Museum's Ghost Gam we sat amidst whaling artifacts and under the skeleton of an eighty-foot whale with jaws that could have absorbed a car – Moby Dick material.

We brought a bag of chocolate-covered cranberries to nibble while a reader read Cornish ghost tales accompanied by a harpist. The spookier the story, the faster we nibbled, and the more Minnie and I didn't want to walk alone back to our room at the Jared Coffin House. It has its own ghost. Shivers.

Locals told of walking by the cemetery and being chased by the ghosts that sit on the fence posts. Proper etiquette for approaching the 'setstillers' was discussed. If they were kindly acknowledged, would they still chase people? You check it out.

I got up and told of a house at home a ghost kept from selling. Her presence cooled it even on the hottest days of summer: supernatural air-conditioning. The house would sell, but the buyers would call within a day and back out. Through prayer and intuitive expertise, the ghost was encouraged to leave and take her baby with her. She did. Within a few days the house sold and stayed sold.

When the whalers were out to sea, a passing ship from home meant a Gam: exchanged mail, gossip, and booze: a party! I'll bet they wished they could have exchanged underwear.

Whalers were gone for months whaling the Atlantic. When it was fished out, they were gone years at a time whaling the Pacific. There was a story on display about a couple married fifteen years who had spent a total of fifteen months together. The women were left behind to run the farms and businesses. I could feel "woman power" in the air.

Fortified with lobster eggs Benedict and wrapped in warm coats, Minnie and I braced ourselves for the after-dark ghost walk. Our group stuck close together; no one wanted to be "left behind."

According to our guide, ghosts have been seen, and continue to be seen, going into the basement of a business to work on looms. Another climbs the stairs to sit by a window and rock. We looked with our eyes open and closed, felt the air for quivery cold, and were disappointed, sort of; we weren't sure we wanted to see them.

The ghosts are seen in period costumes. Maybe they don't know they're dead. At one location the energy felt dangerous raising the hair on the back of our necks. We shivered and moved quickly away. Our guide said ghosts are seen many more places, but the home owners don't want to be included in the tour. We concluded there are ghosts everywhere but on the census.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN wherever you are. Don't let the ghosts get you.

copyright 2005 Red Convertible Travel Series