I love that here on the edge of eastern NY, in sight of the Green Mountains of Vermont, Erin and Luke are again living close to our home of 13 years (1989-2002, in the northwest corner of Massachusetts). It's easy to have a three state day here!
I have old friends here, good friends, moms who drank tea with me when we had babes in arms, friends that kept me sane when we were trying to feed, clothe, homeschool, raise our small people. My friends are grandmothers now, like me. It is sweet to get to this place ... meaning both this physical locale and this spot in life. I rarely, if ever, thought about being a grandmother back in those days, but here we are, and I'm glad to be here with Mary and Gail.
Mary and I go for walks. I drive down the hill to Seifert's Estate Auction House and Antique Store on the corner. The light turns green and I pass the Big Moose Deli, which is what I would call "Vermont tacky,"(although it's in NY state), the house on the corner that was a tavern in colonial days, the tiny post office and volunteer fire station, and then two and a half miles of snow covered, stubble studded cornfields, old barns, and scattered houses, and around the bend by the river, and there I park. The cows in the Green Dairy barn are eating their hay, two cats lie sunning in the dead grass on the south facing road bank. Mary and I meet and walk down Indian Massacre Road. This morning she pointed out the geese and ducks on an ice floe in the river, a red tail hawk, a white-throated sparrow behind the sumac, and further along, a pileated woodpecker. Walks with Mary always include observing the birds.
Gail and I always drink tea. We talk about our children, who were buddies when they were younger and I learn more about her art work. We took a watercolor class together long ago - must be about 20 years ago now - from a local artist. I dabbled a bit, gave it up, and moved on to yarn and fabric. Gail stayed with the paints and after a long, hard battle with cancer, she's painting again. In December and January, she had her first exhibit in the local library. I went to see her paintings yesterday and I felt so glad for her.
Serendipitous grace to share time these special days in January with my golden ones.
I have old friends here, good friends, moms who drank tea with me when we had babes in arms, friends that kept me sane when we were trying to feed, clothe, homeschool, raise our small people. My friends are grandmothers now, like me. It is sweet to get to this place ... meaning both this physical locale and this spot in life. I rarely, if ever, thought about being a grandmother back in those days, but here we are, and I'm glad to be here with Mary and Gail.
Mary and I go for walks. I drive down the hill to Seifert's Estate Auction House and Antique Store on the corner. The light turns green and I pass the Big Moose Deli, which is what I would call "Vermont tacky,"(although it's in NY state), the house on the corner that was a tavern in colonial days, the tiny post office and volunteer fire station, and then two and a half miles of snow covered, stubble studded cornfields, old barns, and scattered houses, and around the bend by the river, and there I park. The cows in the Green Dairy barn are eating their hay, two cats lie sunning in the dead grass on the south facing road bank. Mary and I meet and walk down Indian Massacre Road. This morning she pointed out the geese and ducks on an ice floe in the river, a red tail hawk, a white-throated sparrow behind the sumac, and further along, a pileated woodpecker. Walks with Mary always include observing the birds.
From our walk last week, along a woods road, tracking ...
I looked up the words from that old song and found some I'd never heard. They are appropos ...
Make new friends, but keep the old;I had no idea when I'd see my friends again after Erin and Luke moved to Montana. But with their return to the area and an extended time here helping Erin after Levi's birth, it has come far sooner than I expected!
Those are silver, these are gold.
Brow may wrinkle, hair grow gray,
Friendship never knows decay.
Serendipitous grace to share time these special days in January with my golden ones.
2 comments:
Vermont tacky. I know just what that means. Love it.
Beth, so happy for your golden days. So good to see these smiles that I have heard so much about and so thankful with what tender thoughtfulness the Lord cares for us. I'm looking forward to your tea and smile here as I know are many others - one in particular.
Take care sweet friend - you are very missed!
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