tomorrowland...

Sadly, i do not know the artist

When I get old, I'm going to tie a scarf around my head, and dress, and live, and dream as if i live in a tiny storybook cottage in the wood. This is what's lovely about getting old. You can wear soft colors, and aprons, and long skirts. You can dress yourself like a little doll and be a child all over again. Once upon a time there was an old lady who liked to stop by for free samples now and again. I love blessing her with free coffee. I think she thanked me for my smile once. One day, my boss decided to make free sample cups more accessible (customers used to have to ask). So when this lady came to me seeking a cup, i reluctantly told her that she didn't need to ask anymore, but i asked her if she would, please, still get my attention and say hello when she comes in... and she does, every time. I don't think she speaks much English and we don't say much...just hello. Once she told me about a trip to California to see her grandkids. She doesn't wear a scarf on her head, but she looks like she would, if she were in her home country, perhaps (which i would guess to be Poland). She looks like she deserves a little cottage in the woods, a cottage with a chimney, and a son who chops firewood, and grandchildren all around. Something about the scarf made me think of her; and don't ask me where the scarf came from, it was just pretend.

 

the sad swing switch...

Illustration by Dorothy Lathrop

 

Sunday, we moved our rope swing out to the garden tree. It now has a lovely wooden seat & you can see the pond while you swing & be near our resident cat bird & see the sunflowers in the garden (as soon as we plant some). You can sit and view the orchard, and the lovely berries, and you don't have to worry about dust from the random car that passes by. That being said, there are some who were quite attached to the old swing in it's old location & it was a painful thing to see someone sawing away at that old rope way up in the treetops. So there was a secret memorial which consisted of a ring of daisies in the sandy spot where little feet used to drag the ground at the base of the old swing tree. Either that or a few stray tears just happened to produce that ring of flowers, I'm not sure, because they just appeared there. Either way, there was sadness involved. There was a certain someone who disappeared into the woods while the whole switcheroo took place, someone who looks a lot like the anenome-picking mermaid in this picture; but she emerged from the wood, eventually, and it just-so-happens she was quite happy with this new sit-down swing, remembering how much it reminds her of the old old swing which preceded the rope swing. That wooden seat broke in two when the kids accidentally maliciously piled all the cousins along with themselves onto the swing together, all at once, for a very short ride. My sweet little family; we're all so very nostalgic and rambunctious. I think we will try to hang another rope swing in front at some point, if we haven't all lost our nerve and someone is still brave enough to climb up there and hang it. I mean, we already have the bald spot in the grass, there might as well be a swing there to go with it. Who says we can't have a rope swing and a sit-down swing. I always thought the rope swing was too skinny anyway. Who can sit on that wee little knot? Not I? All's well that ends well, I suppose, but as long as we're having memorials, this can be mine.