High Tea on the Prairies

Brilliant sun, -18C, wondrous clear blue sky, windblown shreds of loose snow skim the highway. Snow white prairies, winter black trees sketched on it’s palette

  

We drove to the tiny town of Qu’Appelle, Saskatchewan for high tea ~ a short 45 minute drive 

from Regina on a wide highway ~ 

three women met with another friend 

who had organized our outing, 

 

In a nondescript restaurant on Qu’Appelle’s main street, 

a delicious prairie high tea was set out for us ~

a variety of tea, deli meat sandwiches, 

wonderful biscuits, chocolate covered  strawberries, 

lemon tarts with meringue, tuna bunwiches, …….

we laughed, ate, drank tea and whiled away the afternoon in easy camaraderie.

“Teatime is a chance to slow down, pull back, 

and appreciate our surroundings.”

~ Letitia Baldridge

Pen’s Family Restaurant

Canadian-Asian Fusion

40 Qu’Appelle St., Qu’Appelle, Saskatchewan

http://pensfamilyrestaurant.scvr.co

See Pen’s Family Restaurant on Facebook

Missing: Surround Sound

In the city I often miss 

the music of the nature’s quiet

wind's soughing 

rustle of leaves, 

sparrows busily chirping, 

water flowing, 

bullrushes shushing 

in wind and wave

black birds’ throaty notes

waves crashing and frothing

shiny wet pebbles 

rolling and settling 

meadow larks trilling their songs

long grasses whispering and nodding

rain dripping from grey clouds

geese honking to circle and fly

crickets and frogs calling to their mates

thunder rumbling from black clouds

In February, I often miss warmer climes.

“Nature’s music is never over; her silences are pauses, not conclusions.

~ Mary Webb

The Rule of 5

I don’t like rules

they don’t like me

they do have their place

in the world of my home

for the stack of papers

that need filed and fixed

the ironing waits

‘til I need clean clothes

so five at a time

each stack gets done

I don’t always play by 

the rules that I’ve made

but once started, momentum

takes care of the rest.

“Any fool can make a rule

And any fool will mind it.”

~ Henry David Thoreau, Journal #1

Chapter Two, Episode 124 - For Gail - Situationally Theirs

For Gail 

They met around the long kitchen table. Cook had provided a large pot of tea, cookies and scones. Digby and Emelina were talking quietly while they waited for everyone to arrive. Dez sat silently beside Matt, his arm around her. A car pulled up outside. “That must be Giles and his family.” Digby went to the door to greet them. Martha and her daughter Joanie sat with Digby, her grandchildren were off in a corner doing homework. Giles sons joined them while the meeting began. Emelina nodded to Digby. He didn’t stand as he usually did at the staff meetings. “I suppose you’re all wondering why we’ve called this meeting so suddenly, so let me explain. Miss Emelina received a call today from the Storyteller with some sad news and a message for us all.” Quiet murmurings around the table stopped as Cook spoke up “We’ve not heard from her since last year. Is she coming out again?” Digby smiled. “No, Elizabeth she hasn’t said anything about that. She has already spoken with Miss Emelina and Miss Dez.” He turned at another car arriving. “So sorry I’m late. Couldn’t get here any faster” Dr. Jeremy came at a rush into the kitchen. Digby moved over so he could sit by his wife. Cook, Samuel and Brigitte were at the far end of the table. 

Digby stood up “Now I think everyone that could come are here. Those few that couldn’t have sent their condolences to the Storyteller. First let me say that everyone on the Estate and connected with the Estate are fine.” He had seen a few worried looks pass from one to another. “The loss is one of our readers. We go about our lives not considering those that may read our stories. They all make our lives rich with reality. One of those good people has left us.” He nodded to his employer and her sister. “Miss Dez, Miss Emelina…..” He gestured for them to continue and he sat by Martha. She gave him his tea.

Dez stood up. “It was the first day of the pandemic, or close to it. I don’t recall. I was alone in jail. That is where this whole story began and where many of our readers started to come with us. Like Digby said, we consider them and we don’t know their names. The message I received from the Storyteller was….” She looked at a the Storyteller’s note. “ ‘Gail was one of the first readers. Throughout the whole lockdown, she read your stories when it had been written daily. We mustn’t forget how important our readers are to keeping us all alive.’ ” A tear slowly crept from one eye. “Em….” She sat down, holding Matt’s hand. 

Standing Emelina said “My story came the next day when I was alone. Everyone had left on the televised advice of Public Health due to the virus. I am forever grateful for all the directions you left for me. In a deep dark place, I had to get my life in order in a hurry. A phone call from the city jail that my sister needed me.” There was a long pause while Miss Em gathered herself together. “We hadn’t seen each other for ten years. And I hadn’t driven for at least four years.” There were sniffles and tears around the table.

Samuel, the ‘man of few words’, had been listening intently. He spoke up. “I didn’t come into the picture ‘til much later. Don’t know much about this Gail or about readers but I’m guessing that she wouldn’t want us all to be snifflin’ and cryin’. She could be lookin’ for some music and a glass of wine. Don’t know but we’d better all cheer up and just be grateful to her and all them readers for making us real.” After Samuel’s long speech, the tissues were put away. Digby went to his office for the bottle of wine he kept for special occasions. Martha and Cook got out the wine glasses, made sure the dust was wiped off them and a toast was made to all readers and especially to Gail.

~~~~

Sarah, the Estate’s little ghost girl, sat up on the ceiling, listening. She whispered over the heads of the gathering. “And all the readers have made me real, too.” The children looked up at her and smiled.

“‘Real isn’t how you are made,’ said the Skin Horse, 

“It’s a thing that happens to you.”

~ Margery Williams Bianco

Prairie Skies

Broad sweeps of blue 

are prairie skies 

clouds frayed and shaped

by invisible wind

where minuscule birds 

dip and dive,

city skyline in miniature 

sits below its grandeur

vast prairie stretches to match its breadth

“The prairie skies can always make you see more than what you believe.”

~ Jackson Burnett, The Past Never Ends

Misty

October, 2012

Young loves together, hidden

in the colours of a long ago autumn, under grey skies and blue umbrellas in the quiet of misty Vancouver Island rain.

“The scent of first rain; it always reminded me of that feverish first love”

~ Priya Prithiviraj, I Still Remember

Sunrise

After the world sleeps,

'ere troubles have receded, 

sun-washed colour drifts 

across the sky in a caress

gifts of time to open our eyes.

“Rest but never quit. Even the sun has a sinking spell each evening, 

But it always rises the next morning. At sunrise, every soul is born again.

~ Mohammed Ali