Tuesday, August 4, 2009


The thunder crashed about the house last night, and I dozed to sleep to the closer-than-distant rumblings. I ‘d heard the first of the close-booms, and went out to the patio to move to shelter the little pine table on which our BabyGrand had done her “aaaart” yesterday as the sun shone and we watered the hostas and wandered barefoot in the damp clover of the lawn.

And a great BOOM of it woke me this morning. I came sleepily out of our room, headed for the kitchen, and this, as every morning, was awaiting me:

I wash the pot and fill it with water and Yuban every night. Chris, who does not care for order and organization in most things, sets up the little coffee-station in the same manner every morning before I wake---Sky-blue cup, Sweet ‘n’ Low on the left (oh, the cream-and-sugars I’ve gone through---this slate floor has been the ruin of a lotta nice dishware, and the cute little clear pink sugarbowl, perfect with the tiny S&L spoon, met its demise a few weeks ago in a losing battle with the sneaky cord as I moved the pot). Skim in the cheery red pitcher, small pretty spoon (one of a set I found at Goodwill years ago, reminder of the luxurious days of full-service air travel, with TWA engraved on the handle---remember the real food in little toy dishes served on the pull-down tray?) centered just so.

He poured my first cup and I said, “Let’s go up into the sitting room and watch the rain.” So we did, and we talked softly of the Grandchildren, of the workday to come, of Japanese swords and coloring books, as we watched the great sluices of water cascading down off the edges of the overworked gutters.

One spot in particular would pour off torrents in a big V-shaped sheet, sometimes a foot wide, then narrowing inward to a couple of inches as the flow lessened, then immediately widening again with the force of the downpour. It was a lovely little warm cocoon, and we sat side-by-side in little pale comfortable barrel-chairs, which took the place of the blue one in the picture when I found them at a yard sale for $17.00 each last month.

This picture was taken on a sunny day, back in the Spring, but today was a darker day, with the windows splashed and the rosy glow of the little lamp welcoming and warm.

He came down to refill my coffee and came back up with a bowl of just-cut Decker melon chunks and two dainty forks; I would probably have fiddled around with the whole aura of the thing and put the melon on plates, or at least pretty bowls, taking up time better spent in the sheer enjoyment of the moment. But this was just perfect---the melon bowl he brought today was the big ole stainless one left over from my first Mixmaster, deep and scratched with a thousand uses. We just sat there companionably with our feet up, chatting and spearing another chunk of that incomparable melon, as the rain poured down.

This little space is just off the upstairs kitchen, and is what was called the “dining area” in all these Fifties ranches in our neighborhood. And all the neighbors-but-one have their tables and chairs there; since we have such a big space downstairs, with breakfast area and dining room, we opted to just make the entire long “living room” little groups of seating.

This cozy spot with chairs and booksbooksbooks is perfect for such a day as this. Lovely start to a stormy day.


Wsprsweetly Of Cottages said...

Just LOVELY...and how nice to peek in on a blissful, comfy morning...
I do love rain!

Southern Lady said...

Rachel, thank you for sharing your morning rain shower with us ... and your cozy little sitting room. What a wonderful place to curl up with a book or just watch the world go by outside those pretty windows.

By the way, I looked at the picture of the cross in my post today and that bucket DOES resemble a fluffy little white rabbit if I take my glasses off ... lol

Thank you for your kind words, as always ... Janie

Nail said...

Thank-you for letting me live through your experience this morning....it hasn't rained here since sometime in '79 so I've totally forgotten what a cool morning with clear liquid coming out of the gutter is like...

Tonja said...

Rachel, I can just feel the cozy, and the closeness, and the love that is radiating through your room. I can taste the coffee...well, I can smell it...I really have never gotten old enough to drink it! I prefer hot chocolate or hot tea. And, the melon, yummy with just the right amount of drippiness!

Do you have a rain chain? Or do you know what one is?

racheld said...

I wish you every one could have been sitting there this morning, with the rain pouring down and the scent of coffee mingling with the odor of wet tomato leaves and drenched ground. We just sat and talked and absorbed it all.

I don't know what that is, Tonja---we have six sets of wind chimes, four on the back patio and two in the arbor, and a rainstick---I love to hear the slick slide of the beads or beans or rocks---whatever's in it.

I'd love a piece of plain old tin, maybe on tiny posts, right outside our bedroom, so it would sound like rain on Mammaw's roof.

Pear tree cottage! said...

Rachel the comfort in knowing how the morning will start is a very nice way to be.......I enjoyed this moment with you!! even if it is almost 4pm on wednesday the 5th here lol lol lol! Lee-ann

Kim Shook said...

Heaven! This is exactly what life is made of. Savoring everyday beauty. Thank you, Rachel!

Cape Coop said...

I adore the morning memories that you've shared with us here!

Anonymous said...

I love the pictures. Feel like I'm able to visit you. Especially love the cheery red pitcher. I've become rather passionate about red lately and have recovered the den couch in red, purchased a little red jar with a cork and spout to keep the olive oil in and a bright red apron.

One if these days I'm going to drive over and sit a spell with you in that pretty morning room.

Love as bright as the sun

racheld said...

You'd be SO welcome to sit more than a spell. It's really dry out there right now, crisping the grass and browning the tomato plants, but I guess part of that is the cool nights, signaling the winding-down of the seasons. I water the hostas and the small patches of grass pretty often, trying to keep the tentatively-spreading moss alive with a small sprinkle---it doesn't require much, and it adds at least SOME green to the gray dirt of that patch beneath the big tree.

Soon will come forth the thick comfy robes, the sock-feet propped on the ottoman, the steaming cup close to hand.

I'd love each and every one of you to occupy those chairs---the bench even has a new cushion, fat and soft, for a long sit-and-chat.

That little spot will seat five, and there's room for eight or nine more in the rest of the room.

Emily said...

I really enjoyed this.
I woke to thunder this morning (and several times last night). What an exercise in gratitude to be completely content in the moments and spaces of our lives. Fantastic.

bethany said...

utterly lovely. and yes i remember the real silverware on twa, with the little toy dishes :). nothing in the world better than a rainstorm and the perfect someone to watch it with. i'll take a wee pillow on the floor for a chat ...

racheld said...

Emily and Bethany,

I'm so glad you ventured over from Women's Colony! Mrs. G. is quite something, isn't she?

thank you for visiting, and you're both SO welcome. I thank you for the kind words, and bid you join us for tea or coffee of whatever is your potion of choice.

And Bethany, unless you're a visiting Fairy Friend, I do believe you'll be more comfortable on one of the poufy ottoman-size pillows just over THERE beside the sofa. Do sit down.

Katie said...

Sounds like a perfectly delicious morning!