This afternoon I walk with friends amongst the giant sequoia trees and beside the long borders, bursting with summer blossom at Killerton House. And although Robin is walking with me... carrying all my memories of our times in this garden....still I claim this hour, this dear company, this beauty as purely mine, to savour and enjoy.....moment by moment ....now and now and now.
On the way back from the dentist this morning, my mouth numb with novacaine - yet again - but this time only for a filling, I pull over to the side of the road where there is a table outside someone's house, laden with jam jars of sweet peas for sale.
I want to buy them all but reluctantly leave one bunch for another customer.
When it comes to sweet peas I'm greedy.
Their perfume fills my kitchen.....it's forever entwined with memories of my mother....of her snipping their long delicate stems, winding up the lattice string trellis constructed by my father at the Small Garden in Upper Basildon where they lived and gardened up until their eighties.
I'm also greedy for pasta. It's so suitable for my delicate mouth at the moment. But really I could eat it every night....I think I may have had an Italian grandmother in another lifetime. Although she probably had never heard of the gluten free, rice version I'm cooking these days.
Tonight I fry a clove of garlic with a chopped spring onion and a sliced tomato, scramble in some eggs and stir in a bunch of torn basil and drizzle over more olive oil. Pure comfort in a bowl while I watch a late tennis match on TV - not really caring who wins.
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