I had dinner outside last night, on my terrace, by candlelight.
It seemed a fitting end to the summer. Tonight, my kids come home from a
month-long visit to their grandparents in Chicago and in a few days we’ll all
be adjusting to new routines, early morning bustle, making school lunches and
hustling everyone out the door on time.
But last evening, lulled by the song of crickets in the darkness, I reflected on how eating outdoors evokes such wonderful late summer memories.
But last evening, lulled by the song of crickets in the darkness, I reflected on how eating outdoors evokes such wonderful late summer memories.
But the image that most comes to mind in the late summer if of my
visits to my godmother. Every year of my earliest childhood, my parents shipped
me off to spend two weeks with my godmother.
She and her husband lived in
Brussels, in a big house so removed from the boulevard that was its official
address that one could pretend to be out in the country. It was a magical place
to me. There was actually a library in the house — the kind with the rolling
ladders to reach the highest shelves. There was a grand piano that I was
allowed to “play” for hours. There was a dovecote, with the attendant cooing playing
the background melody of each day. There was only one telephone and it was the candlestick kind
that you need both hands to use — one to hold the little hearing piece to your
ear and one to hold the base. It had been installed in the 1920s by my
godmother’s parents, and sixty years later, she didn’t see any reason to
replace it — it worked just fine.
One of my godmother’s passions was her rose garden, a wild,
rambling thing that overtook the front alley with heady scents and glorious
colors. At the edge of it, off to the side of the house, was a clearing with a
gnarled old tree. There was a bench beneath it that had been there so long that
the tree had grown through and around it so that the two were now one being.
My godmother had set a table and chairs before the bench, and
every afternoon in August, she served tea under the tree. And I don’t mean toss-a-tea-bag-in-a-mug kind
of tea. It was a ceremony planned for
from early morning, when her first task after breakfast was to bake the pastry
of the day. (My favorite was boterkoek, a Dutch pastry made with candied
ginger.) Then, in the afternoon, there was laying out the tea tray: setting out
a lacy cloth over the tray; stacking delicate saucers and cups and cake plates;
the sugar bowl with its silver tongs; the creamer; the teapot, the plate of thinly sliced lemon.
At four, we’d go sit under the tree and my godmother would pour.
This was the time that their friends knew they were welcome to come by. So,
each day was different — on rare occasions it was just the three of us, but
most of the time one or two of their friends would join us. My godmother was a pianist. Her husband was an
archaeologist. Among their friends were not only colleagues, but also artists and
college professors in other fields.
There I was, a quiet child sitting under the tree, sipping my
tea and nibbling my slice of boterkoek, imbibing the most fascinating
conversations. I learned more esoteric things on those lazy August afternoons
than I ever did at school — not least of which was the existence of Disney World
in Florida. One of the friends, an engineer, had just returned from taking his
family there. He explained in detail not only the rides, but also the ingenious
ways in which they were constructed. It sounded so out-of-this-world, that to this
day I fear a visit to Disney World would pale in comparison to the vision he
described to us that day. (I have taken my kids to Disneyland in Paris, though,
and admit I was not disappointed in the least!) I also now associate engineers
with Disney magic, which is probably why I’m so fond of them.
My grown-up life is so hectic, there’s little room for this kind of genteel ritual. But if I need a little end-of-summer vacation, I’m grateful I can slip into my memories and still enjoy this one.
And if an intertwined tree and bench or a gracious teatime make
an appearance in any of my books, you’ll know where it came from.
Her other Green Pines sweet romances, I Love You Three, Reclaiming Home, The Kampala Peppermint Twist and Sweet Blizzard are available on Amazon, Amazon.uk, iBooks, Nook, Kobo and all your favorite e-book retailers.
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