Every time I visited that bookstore, I would search for it. Each time I had put it back because I already have a version.
It was a book that I had picked up so many times in my favourite bookshop. All wrapped in tissue-y paper and tied with thin twine. Baked us pie and made crumble, and delicious breakfasts and there were goodies and parcels waiting for us in the spare bedroom.Īnd the most precious gift for me. I met friends, and one of my sisters, and drank gunpowder tea from the teeniest Japanese teapot.īut best of all we crossed that bridge again, and visited our Discovered little lanes with quaint mews houses and the Liberty store, with it's ancient oak beams taken from an old ship. Then April showers came and we went to London and when poor Ahmad was in meetings, I explored the Serpentine in the rain, and the green lungs, and saw bright green parakeets, horses and heron. It was good to feel an order and rhythm return to this little life we've made for ourselves. Recycled, renewed, repaired, and baked a million fruit crumbles and streusel tarts.īefore the sun was up I worked on my little shop, that had also mostly hibernated, and then did the same on the long light evenings. Sorted out the loft, the shoe cupboard and my wardrobe. I sowed seeds, and I planted and watered, painted outside doors and windows, and garden furniture that had been washed by the snow. After the long cold winter's hibernation, it was catch up time!
The days were long and hot and sunny, and I didn't want to waste a second.
Spring had only just begun but it felt like summer. '.rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.' sonnet 18, William Shakespeare, 1564 - 1616 We sip Moroccan Mint Tea from the Classy Hippie Tea co and eat brunch at The Tower or the Hitching Post in Ahwahnee, meet for early morning coffee at a roastery or at each other's apartments mostly just enjoying the time that we spend together before we fly off home again. The cafe and garden, similarly aged, the interior a theatrical paradise of tiles and plants and trees, a colourful cacophony of old paintings and prints, basket chairs, and Oriental Paper Parasols. It's next to The Tower Theater, a 1930's art deco wedding cake of a building. I ate my first pumpkin pie in a turn of the century soda fountain in Sonora and fell in love with The Tower cafe on Broadway, Sacramento. The sounds are different, the fire engines wail like someone in pain, the trains make a deep honking sound. I wear my new, 1960's style glasses and look very serious, feel as though I should be wearing 60's style clothes too, or maybe 70's or 80's. There are big beautiful clapboard houses and some that look like they are in an English Tudor village and others that could be in Mexico. It's hot and the sky is blue and there are palm trees and fruit trees with large round ripe oranges, lemons and limes, dates and sweet pluots and pomegranates, that line the streets, and edge the gardens in the neighbourhood. It seems appropriate that Portal Park is nearby. We time was still the same day when we arrived.we had gone back eight whole hours. I love to hear the tinkle of her bicycle bell as she cycles over to see us and wish that she could do the same when we are back home in England. It's just a stone's throw from my baby and her partner. We landed in Los Angeles, then we got on the smallest plane to Sacramento, where we are staying in a garden apartment on the ground floor of a large house with a tropical garden. We followed it for thirteen whole hours of daylight and then the landscape gave way to desert and dust, backyards with turquoise pools and aeroplanes that looked like tiny white crosses.
#Like a storm in a teacup windows#
I peeped through the windows and I could see Reykjavik and ice and snow below, the sun shining all the time.
0 kommentar(er)
