TINY BUBBLES

The week of their visit seemed to be Kit's week---lots of things centered around her birthday. Her older sister's birthday is in Winter, with no outdoor games, etc., so we used to have her a half-birthday every Summer, to catch up.

We had a wonderful time whilst they were all here, though we missed several of the activities we had planned. We meant to have a weenie roast one night, with real, genuine actual S’mores constructed from Graham crackers, Hershey Bars broken just along the S’mores lines they put on them just for that purpose, and gently-toasted (or ragingly flamed---however you like ‘em) marshmallows.

It just seemed that the days got away from us, flying past in a blur between breakfast times---one of which included waking to a birthday cake:

And this trip---despite my usual clinging to old habits and my love of setting out pretty parties and making pretty tables, the Solo Cup and Plate company’s coffers swelled beyond their dreams of avarice. We used them almost every meal, and that get-up-and-toss moment, as each child cleared a portion of the table and readied it for art, puzzles, a tea party later in the afternoon---that was worth trying to be greener'n Kermit for the next coupla years.

Any table with TWO high chairs---in MY book, that's just too much Sugar for a Dime.

Then it was outdoors, up trees, down the block, to the store, ride the bike, drive the little car, back up the tree---and then it was time for lunch, most of which were enjoyed on the patio, sometimes with all nine of us gathered.

We DID cook, and we DID go out; we constructed elaborate tea-stands of sandwiches and little muffins and celery sticks, and the Jif company stocks rose mightily up the board, as well. As did the combined holdings of Messrs. Kellogg and Post, for our little guys consumed vast amounts of Lucky Charms and Applejacks and other crunchy, sugary delights. What the heck---they were at GANJIN and GANNER’s house!

There were parfait breakfasts, with everyone taking a turn with the berries, the granola, the
yogurt:

and the Redi-Wip can:

Kit had requested our usual parade, as a sendoff to her Birthday Party, and we had the hats all ready, the car and the bike all spiffed up, the balloons and flags all ready for display, and the RAIN said No. My fun was going to be teaching the kidlets the “birthday party games” from my own childhood---little lawn games like Farmer in the Dell, London Bridge, Drop the Handkerchief, and maybe Pin the Tail on the Donkey. Again---we were house-bound.

On pretty days, their Aunt-who-lives-close contributed Sidewalk Chalk (a great hit with one and all, especially seeing their ole Ganjin demonstrate her great prowess with Hopscotch) and everyone got a big bottle of bubbles (an entire afternoon of blowing and chasing and popping ensued)---a fast-running blur of children and bubbles:

The usual view of anyone shorter than four feet---doin' sump'n.

There was a teensy dog, also with the usual view of his young Master---running AWAY.

There was a BIG dog---he outweighs ALL the GrandChildren:

As well as our own FuzzyPup, who began his life as THEIRS, but he’s decided that being the ONLY fellow in the house is nicer than being gnawed on by a mouth bigger than your head, when you're trying to sleep.

(The photo above was taken, believe it or not, by our Girl in Residence, who asked, "May I push the but-ten?" When I said, "Look right through here," she sorta aimed her eye at the back of the camera, clicked, and there it was---centered and everything. Of course, the subject is just like everyone else---looking OFFFFF).

Caro brought pretty crafts kits---fairy fashions and felt jewelry and some exquisitely beautiful markers, which were continued throughout the week, as well as games and puzzles and coloring books and a new BOX OF 96. Those are the main reason that our Gracie was notably absent from most activities---she could be found at the “art” table, where she made lovely floral jewelry and had several knitting lessons from our dear neighbor. The click of needles punctuated most of our days thereafter, and she was distributing pretty little “sleep masks” to all the ladies present before the week was out.

We played, we sang, we had all sorts of fun. Everyone just gave every minute its due, and bath time was the final play, with everyone into jammies and maybe just a teensy snack before toothbrush time. Even our little Cal, whose much-protested bedtimes and refusals to nap---ever---were disavowed by his gentle collapse and slump almost the moment the last pajama snap clicked. And they all slept until at least 8 a.m., and a couple of times til nine.

Anyway---the time was wonderful, too short, and crammed WAY full of good things to do and to see and to read and to eat. We’ll get together again for a couple of weeks before Summer is out, and perhaps we’ll fill in all the gaps caused by the rain and sheer lack of time to do everything. Lots to anticipate for next visit, and too long until it comes.

Tomorrow: THE PARTY and that PRINCESS CAKE!

THE TREE-CUP TREE

In these first few days of young Summer, the whole world seems to be ripening and swelling and leaping ahead of the hours of the days.



The sunshine lasts far into what seems night, for we’ve been settling into the evenings before eight, having our dinners indoors for escape from the humid heat. We usually have our dinners on trays with a TIVO of something from last night, or even from before the children arrived for their visit. After dinner, dessert, the close of whatever innocuous thing we're trying to concentrate on, our eyes stagger to the window, still framed in the bright day toward the West, and we're astounded it's not midnight. Our pace most usually resembles this:

After the scurry of the days with our little one, evenings take a long time for that breath of relaxing, of settling in, of letting down our watch after the days running after, of the total BEING THERE in these little moments---for transition into the time it takes to deprogram our minds and hearts from the great responsibility and the great honor of this trust.

This morning, despite the days of dishes in the sink---testament to the call of the cooler outdoors lately---we stayed OUT. We wandered the yard, inspected the garden, pulled a few tee-ninecy trees from the immense forest of maples encroaching amongst what MIGHT be the flowers we planted. It’s hard to see the teensy roundnesses of wee leaves amongst that hardy, hearty crewcut of GRASS which is beginning to carpet the garden. That rain must have been RogAINe for grass.

And we finished our yesterday’s task---we tied the last ribbon, we climbed the ladder and found stems and nubs suitable for the hanging, and we completed our “TREECUP TREE.”

It’s a little bit gaudy, a little bit sentimental, and a whole lot US in the layout and the making, and there’s nothing wrong with that, I think. There are strings of old ONE OF cups, and a small slender white single-pot dangles side-by with a chubby short green model, cheery with apples, whose lid and matching cup hang a-dangle like a china Calder.

It was our fun of the last couple of days, that cup-tree---poking through shelves and cabinets for likely additions, choosing the weary and the worn, the precious and the chipped, the bright happy sheen of the Tiffany cups (my very first purchase at a Thrift Shop when we moved here twenty years ago). The big, unmistakable blue box had a promising heft, and and the no-rattle shake of good packing. The sticker on the box lid read $10.00.

I’d looked at the price twice as I opened its treasures---six lovely satiny dessert plates, in a blue floral pattern with cups and saucers to match. Two pieces of paper in the bottom of the box were provenance and history: A card “to Susan and Matt, with our best wishes” and a Tiffany sales ticket, hand-written, enumerating the eighteen pieces, from the 70’s, with a price of $108-and-tax.

And now the six cups swing from Tiffany blue grosgrain at varying heights in the Treecup Tree---our morning well spent, our Little One and Caro and I, tying various ribbons and bows and choosing spots and limbs and angles for best effect.

This morning, I’ve been humming a song I’d almost forgotten---a sweet, sentimental Mancini, almost lost to memory in the wake of Moon River. It was nominated for an Academy Award in its own time, and I was astounded to remember every word, as I sang softly whilst climbing the ladder, tying the bows, helping busy small hands with their own tasks.

It’s called The Sweetheart Tree, and our day's occupation caused me to keep singing, “Come alonnnnng with MEEEEE, to the TREEEEE-CUP Tree . . .”

A one-of-a-kind Mammaw cup:

The blues with that famous blue ribbon:

We’ve been smiling all day, just thinking of our creation; Our Girl made sure to invite the neighbors over to see it, and led everyone out for a look, as they came into the yard, or just passed by out front.

Of COURSE it began as a Tea-Cup Tree---what else? But the name was changed so charmingly, so sweetly, that it’s going to be permanent. Some of the most wonderful names of things and people came from the sweet, innocent words of children.

I certainly think so,

Ganjin

RIBBONS, CUPS AND ROSETTES

How very lovely to hear from all you wonderful Fairy people!! We've had a Fairy Dell everywhere we've ever lived, but this is the first door we've ever had appear right INSIDE the house.

I hope the Wee Folk will be pleased with the lovely Tree-Cup Tree we made for them this morning. I would imagine little doors and windows will soon shine from every honeysuckle and Rose of Sharon in the Dell.

Pictures tomorrow of our new garden feature.

FAIRY DOORS

What better time to think of Fairies than on this Cusp-Night of Summer? We've had a long and lovely relationship with the Faery World, and I've been known for quite some time as the Fairy Lady, to a lot of friends and their children.

And what accommodations, you ask, might there be for the Wee Folk in our area? Well, there are a few of the original dwellings, now mostly tourist sites for traveling Fae, who enjoy looking at the old-fashioned places with much the curiosity that we lend to Mount Vernon or Shakespeare's home. I'm sure that the bark furniture and twig accoutrements are a source of levity and wonder to today's society, so accustomed to their modern amenities.

The Tree-House is closed for the day, the candles snuffed, the shutters drawn, as it awaits another fleet of tiny carriages and charabancs, bumbletaxis and flitting tourists on the morrow:

A more comfortable abode, with very nice tapestries, a large banqueting hall, regal appointments, intricately-carved staircases and quite a lovely view of the countryside:

This is a popular stop for the Michigan tourists, as Ann Arbor is quite a destination for all the visiting Fae; the entire city embraces such distinguished clientele, and hundreds of small doors proclaim their hospitality:

Our own dear Fairy Door below, in the corner of a bookcase; it suddenly appeared there one Christmas Morning, and since we keep it well-stocked with shiny objects and bonbons, it's had quite the traffic since. Perhaps it's the choice of sweets, perhaps our own reputations as good landlords---we seemed to have The Mark, I think, much like the hobo inscriptions on railside houses offering a hot meal or shady place to rest.

This Fairy, created by our own original Fairy Girl, Gracie, has emerged to check on the welfare of the baby-in-the-nutshell; he seems to be slumbering peacefully on the stoop in the mellow lamplight.

Some of the doors are a bit mysterious, with little indication as to the type of dwelling within; still others proclaim their owner's tastes, styles, status or interests. I DO think a very comfy, happy Fairy must occupy this place, with its dainty pinks and delicate flowers and sweet dove over the window. .  Her talents would be music, I think, and perhaps conjuring cupcakes---plump, pillowy ones with billows of icing, and her spells would run to Spring Dewfall and Honeysuckle and gentle dreams.

And this one---oh, this one. It has to be the doorway to a cunningly-laid-out little house, with all built-in-shelves and beds carved from the cedar walls, with feathery mattresses and coverlets of down. The whole house would be shining inside, polished wood and brass, with the gleaming kettle on the hob, always ready and welcoming for tea.

Fairy Tea has its own magic, for it never does run out;

And the flavour you imagine will come streaming from the spout.

For each person at the table conjures up her favourite kind---

Lemon, Thimbleberry, Moonbeam---what the drinker has in mind.

But you never spill it on you, even if you drop your cup;

Its Enchantment keeps it safely; you just reach and pick it up.

And the pot stays warm forever, until washed and put away;

It will last the longest Tea Time, for an hour or a day.

And do YOU believe in Magic, and that Dreams indeed come true?

You're invited any Tea Time. For we ALL BELIEVE---do YOU?

SPRING FINALE

On this last lovely weekend of Spring, we wish you sunny days, blue skies, and green shady arbors with Fairies looking down.

See you on Monday for the beginning of SUMMER!!

Love and Sunshine,

rachel 'n' 'em