LAWN TEA, AGE TWO

ALL PHOTOGRAPHS FROM THE INTERNET

Two years ago today, I sent out my first post into the Blog World. The subjects and the stories and the people have been varied and numerous, and the response has been heart-warming and wonderful.

The title came out of nowhere, when the one I chose was already taken---I was just thinking of the lovely Lawn Teas of the past, with ladies in softly flowing dresses and the scent of mint rising with a sandal-step, the beautiful tea tables arranged with pastel cloths and colorful flowers and dishes and teapots. I’ve longed to have one of those parties again, with guests at their ease on a wide shady lawn, chatting and enjoying the languor of good company and good food as a long day winds down into a starry evening and fireflies.

Somehow, it’s just never happened, in this several years I’ve meant to have one---my own lawn right now is more lazy and littered and leafy than languid, and though my heart longs for dainty iced cakes and gracious manners, the coming of Autumn brings only a shutting-down of all outdoor activities save perhaps a weenie-roast out at the firepit, with sunny afternoons of leaf-sweeping and putting away for the cold to come.

We've had quite a few little moments, whether carefully arranged or impromptu, but never the tables and silver and chairskirts and a table of savories and then the dessert table with its lovely goodies like beautifully-wrapped presents.

Nothing quite so formal and stiff, of course, as the crimped-and-collared tea-on-the-lawn of our forebears, with such detailed manners and staid attire:

But not quite so casual, either, as the guests who have to be not only seated by the hostess, but propped up sedately, to sit stiff and speechless during the refreshments. (Though that COULD well be ME in that picture---my hair parted Just So, and in that scratchy dress. And I, of all the people I know, WOULD be the one to think that having tea within feet of the railroad track would be the height of fashion and delight).

But, there WILL be a Lawn Tea---in the Spring, or in the Summer of next year---the nine months or so of Meantime will be a time to dream and plan, perhaps polish some silver and unearth the jewel-toned dessert plates. And until then---the plans and the hopes and the dreams, for such an elegant event.

And my plans always begin with little Individual Iced Cakes---they set a gracious, beautiful, dignified tone to any affair. Teapots and pretty china cups, as well as sparkling glasses beside the several big punchbowls of sweet tea and mint tea and a nice rum punch.

We go on to trays of Small Sandwiches, Crudite, Small Biscuits and Pate a chou puffs, Chris’ grilled Tenderloin on soft rolls, a good old Southern Congealed Salad, some small, too-twee CUT-OUTS, savory and sweet, and a tray of SOOOOEEET Piggies nestled warm and luscious into their honey/butter/brown sugar syrup. And always, ALWAYS, Chicken Salad.

The dessert table will have cakestands of lovely iced cakes and tiers of brownies with doily-covered trays of Lemon Bars and all sorts of cookies, and a big trifle bowl of layered Banana Pudding.

This year’s chance has gone, unless we want to be like Miss Martha’s icy gathering, muffled and gloved, drinking heavy mugs of strong tea and toasting hearty cheese sandwiches over the open fire, between active sessions of skating on the pond.

I just spent the morning pruning the grapevines and cutting down all the yellowed, limp hostas, spent and fallen, with promises to Sweetpea that their “eggs” are still safe under the soil, and will sprout gloriously in Spring. I promise that to ME as well---gotta have something to dream about when the holidays are over and the snow flies.
It will be like Seed Catalogues in January, to see me through the cold.

Thank you all for these two lovely years, of the companionship and the comments and the wonderful friendships forged on this ethereal 'Net. And tomorrow will begin Year Three.