September 20, 2013

You Warm My Heart

Today's blog is not about geographical places as much as it is about places of the heart, starring a hot, rejuvenating cup of tea:

Bringing hot tea to make my beloved Aunt Mary feel better when she was ill.

She's been gone close to a quarter of a century, but I still miss her, a lot. She was the only one that ever got away with calling me Mart-o.  Sometimes, I think I hear her say it softly when I'm thinking about something she would enjoy.

In fact, one of my little figurines represent a day I took care of her--I think I was only about four at the time, but I remember being so proud of serving as Grandma's helper and carrying in a cup of tea to my aunt.

Memories of Yesterday figurine--"You Warm my Heart"
Having a tea party with my grandmother

We used our imaginations to turn oatmeal boxes into doll's tea tables and chairs and had a lovely time sipping imaginary tea and nibbling at dainty imaginary cookies in her living room.

We used my sweet little tea set that has survived the years and is proudly displayed in my home.  I don't think I'll reveal how old it is, if that is okay with you!

My child's set matches the beautiful Blue Willow tea cups my husband lovingly chose at Harrod's when we visited London--two tea cups and saucers so that my mother and I could have matching cups.  I loved to use them when I would invite her over for an afternoon tea and I would make her favorite English cake roll.  We would sit and sip tea and watch Pride and Prejudice or Sense and Sensibility and revel in all things British.

Oops, wait a minute.  Sorry, Mom, looks like we are drinking our notorious Pimms Cups instead of tea in this picture!  But I wanted to show off my lovely tea pot from England and our dainty cucumber sandwiches and chocolate dipped strawberries...

That's is one of my Harrods tea cups!

And even better...afternoon tea of cream scones and strawberry jam.  In the top left corner is my mother's favorite cake roll--soft layers of apricot jam and tea flavored whipped cream.  Beautiful linens, an antique lace table topper, a British movie and the company of my mother. What more can I say? 

Memory's Garden

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Back on its golden hinges
The gate of Memory swings,
And my heart goes into the garden
And walks with the olden things.
The old-time, joys and pleasures,
The loves that it used to know,
It meets there in the garden,
And they wander to and fro.
It heareth a peal of laughter,
It seeth a face most fair,
It thrills with a wild, strange rapture
At the glance of a dark eye there;
It strayeth under the sunset
In the midst of a merry throng,
And beats in a tuneful measure,
To the snatch of a floating song.

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