“Until we know where
the dandelions grow,
beautiful buttercup yellow
glowing under our chins,
making tea from roots
grown deep in the earth,
blowing gauzy parachutes
that float on the breeze,
in the past there was future
and the future will pass,
we just might forget
how we arrived in today.
“If you find yourself worrying, go outside,
take three breaths, address a tree and quietly say,
‘Thank you’. If you can’t find a tree, a dandelion will do….
Nature is magic.”
~ Robert Bateman
Felix the Cat wanted nothing except a soft bed to curl up in. And food of course. When he was indoors he knew where everything was. Outdoors was rather difficult. Other cats wandered his neighbourhood that caused him trouble. Yet he always had a bed beside the flowers in the deep leaves. As long as the sun shone, he could hide himself and wait for some little mouse creeping along. Sometimes he stayed outside and dismembered the poor mouse; sometimes he gifted his friend Rick with it, although it was never appreciated. No matter, either way he was fed and loved.
“To him, even the momentary was momentous.”
~ G.K.Chesterton, Saint Thomas Aquinas
Felix the Cat wanted nothing……
“Until we know where……..
There is always a horizon…….
Usually a proper walk is……..
Recognizing limits……..
Emelina cleaned…….
“Real generosity toward the future lies in giving all to the present.”
~ Albert Camus, Notebooks 1935-1942
“Good morning Cook. Are Digby and Martha here yet? We have some organizing to do.” Emelina, dressed as though she was going to a meeting. Casual in tailored sweater and slacks, she had come downstairs, gone to the cupboard and got out mugs for tea or coffee. “Any coffee cake or scones? We shouldn’t be that long but something to snack on would be nice. Have you met this Phillip yet? ”
“Good morning Miss Em. Will you be wanting a bit more than a scone? You’ve not had any breakfast yet. No, I don’t even know who Phillip is. James mentioned that a young man would be out here working with him soon. That’s about all I know. Martha usually tells me everything, but not this time.” Cook busied herself with poaching eggs, soft but not too soft and no strings of egg white, just the way her employer liked them. “You sit down, toast is just about ready and I’ll have your eggs in just a few minutes.” She saw that Miss Emelina was about to protest. “Now I know you, Miss Em. If you ate anything upstairs it wasn’t much more than an old crust of bread. If we’re about to have a discussion about whatever this big secret is, you need food in your stomach.” Cook had been mothering Emelina since Mr. Michael died almost six years ago. Emelina tried half heartedly to dissuade her and it was now a comfortable part of their relationship. Looking out the back window Cook saw her friends come up the walk. “They’re just here now, Miss Em. I do hope this whatever it is, is not bad news.”
“Good morning!! It’s James and I, Elizabeth.” Martha burst into the kitchen, all smiles and looking quite excited. “Oh, Elizabeth I can finally tell you what’s been keeping me so quiet this week. James didn’t want me to say anything until we had this meeting………… Miss Em, I’m so glad you’re here! You must know a little about this. James said he’d talked with you last week the day after he had dinner with his old friend, Malcolm and that man’s nephew.” Martha had fluttered around the kitchen bringing the old brown teapot to the table, filling mugs with the steaming brew, covering it back up with a flowered tea cosy. James watched his wife in amusement, got a separate mug and poured himself some coffee.
“I’m finished my breakfast, Cook. Thank you for taking care of me.” Emelina took her dishes to the sink. Over her shoulder, she said “Digby, why don’t you start and tell Cook what you would like to do next week when Phillip is here.” She rinsed her hands under the tap, dried them and returned to the table. Elizabeth spoke up. “First would someone tell me who this Phillip is. Then we can get on with the rest.”
James cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you anything until now, Elizabeth. This may not seem like much but I have been very nervous about it. An old friend of mine, Malcolm Flanders, called me a few weeks ago about helping out his nephew. We met over dinner in town last week. Phillip, his nephew, wants to learn what my job is.” Martha took over, actually jumped right into his story. “That’s what's so exciting, Elizabeth. Maybe not many would think so, but we’ve been plodding along for the last two years - I’m sorry, Miss Em, but that’s what it feels like - and now we have a chance to do what we’re good at.” Miss Em held up her hand. “Martha, please don’t apologize. It has felt like plodding along, and all of you have kept right on doing what you can to keep me and this old place together. I do think you got a bit ahead of yourself. Poor Cook is looking more confused than ever! First, this is all only temporary and may not lead to anything. Remember, this young man is just here to see what it’s like to be a butler.” She looked up at James, still quiet, patiently waiting for his turn. “James do you want to continue?”
Before he could say anything, Elizabeth spoke up. “Why am I needed, James?”
He finally had the floor while the three women sat back and listened. “I had little idea of what to show this young man - Phillip - about my career as a butler until meeting him. Meeting in a restaurant helped when I saw again a well laid table, the waiters and how my role has not been dissimilar to theirs. Rather like a personal chef compared to the chefs in a restaurant kitchen. Same tasks in a more controlled setting. That got me thinking.” He looked at Emelina and smiled. “I almost stopped myself and was going to turn down this young man. I knew I would need to speak with you before I could go ahead. Knowing you for this last many years, but especially this last two years, I knew I could count on you to do what you could to help.” Kindly, he looked at his wife, Martha and his friend, Elizabeth. “I also knew I would need, not just your support, but your participation, to be successful. I wanted Phillip to know that being a butler relied on the rest of the staff.” He stopped, stood up and, head down, started pacing. Martha whispered to Elizabeth. “He’s really excited about his idea.” The little group was quiet for a while. James came back to his chair. Hands on its back, he leaned in. “Miss Emelina has agreed to host a dinner for about six people. I don’t want to overwhelm Phillip - or any of you.” He hesitated. “And, I am going to take him through the Estate, have him meet Samuel. My opinion is that a butler is only as good as his knowledge of the whole of his employers house, needs to have a good working relationship with the rest of the staff……..I guess that’s about it. Before I go any further what do you think Elizabeth?” Elizabeth had listened carefully to James, taken her pad and pencil out making a note or two, her face relaxed. She seldom showed her excitement, but when she started taking notes, Martha knew she wouldn’t miss the chance to be involved. “Well, James, I think you’ll be a fine teacher for this young man. You just tell me what and when this dinner party is and I’ll get cooking.” She looked at Martha. “I wondered why you asked me when the silver had last been polished and why you took the damask table cloth and napkins home with you.” Martha looked quite smug. “Well they needed washing. Haven’t been out of the drawers since I don’t know when.”
~~~~~
Emelina was excited too. She had been trying to manufacture an excuse to have a dinner party. When Digby spoke with her she had to restrain herself from clapping her hands like a ten year old! She had agreed wholeheartedly and was on her phone to her sister Dez as soon as Digby returned to his office. Talking to her husband, Jeremy, he was almost as excited. While the pandemic had wound down considerably, they were all still creeping out into the fresh air of sociability. It was as though Digby, faithful as he always had been, had opened the door for them all.
“Whatever you decide to do, make sure it makes you happy.”
~ Paulo Coelho
City streets quiet
people settling at home;
evening meals at restaurants
or an outing at a theatre,
buses muscle through winding routes, walkers ferried
to their next stop, voices carry through the humid air, words lost in the dense lilac scented air hanging heavy in courtyards and draped over fences.
Spring beckons summers ease.
“Inhale and hold the evening in your lungs.”
~ Sebastian Faulks, Engleby
The balcony looked empty
except for a pot or two
They looked awfully lonely
So I planted a potato or two
whether they grew or not ~
but lightning, thunder and rain came down and my two little potatoes grew!
“Planting is not the end; it is only the beginning of planting.”
~Henry Sherman Adams, Making a Rock Garden
 |
| Photo taken July 2008 |
In the city, clouds gathered silently until angry thunder knuckled our heads, slashed rain viciously on ant-like traffic plowing through sudden rivers and lakes. Lightening flickered ominously through the storm salted with pebbles of ice that rattled car roofs and beat on windshields. Storm clouds hovered overnight, brief rolls of thunder hinted that the spring storm was relocating to drench someone else, somewhere else.
Today, the sun glistened on our world.
“Thunder rattled the window panes two stories high and lightning split
the sky; it was as if the whole world was in turmoil that night.”
~ Sara Niles, Torn From the Inside Out
