A little while back Sophia Stuart (and her virtual self teamgloria ) walked away from the fast lane……
Walking away from the fast lane
which must explain why I found her/them, last week, at a small post shop in quiet, suburban Christchurch.
In the quiet suburbs
I was very surprised to see her there (that’s me in the window, not her), because we are awfully far away from her home in Los Angeles. But there she was, and she had obviously travelled very s l o w l y, possibly by sea, because her departure date was stamped November, and, even in our little backwater, it is already December ;). Because it is such a long way from over there, in the Northern Hemisphere, to here, however one travels, and because teamgloria ** is one of my best blogging friends, I thought it only polite to invite tg’s** who-she-is-in-real life-persona, Sophia, home for a spot of tea. So I scooped her up (she does say she is small) and home we went. Sophia is used to driving about in a perfectly silver Prius but our transportation, though silver, is more modest :)…. a tiny Echo aka motoka kiwikiwi.
Since I was not expecting guests, I had only a simple cup of tea (rooibos, it was) to offer, but I was sure Sophia wouldn’t mind. So, once home, I gathered up the tea-tray and
Tea Tray for Sophia
a favourite shawl (Sophia likes shawls) which, long, long ago, was loomed by the loving hands of gentle women in far Nepal,
Cloth of silky cotton threads
and spread a small picnic tea for the two of us, in the late afternoon shade of the sweet-scented, summer roses.
In the shade of the roses
Isn’t it a lovely setting for a cup of tea? Take a closer look and enjoy talking to Sophia as much as I did. I hope you can see her, though 🙂
If you think I am being a little too fanciful, (and I am, just a little), think deeply on the serendipity of this. In the morning, before I met Sophia at the post shop, I read this, about beauty and dreams and cloths, in my book of daily poetry: our encounter was, I think, meant to be……
He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
silkannthreades 