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.