Lament for a Garden Hat and a Teacup – What is it about the familiarity of certain objects that makes you feel so cozy? (A friend uses the word “cozy” often, and every time she says it, I feel cozy.)
After a number of ill-fitting misses in my first two years of gardening, I found a Wallaroo sun hat at R.E.I. that fit my large-circumferenced head, breathed rather well, shaded my whole face most of the time, and most importantly, you could wad it up in a suitcase and it would spring back to life when released. And it was brown, so it didn’t show dirt! For two years, I wore it everywhere.
From my garden, to the Getty Center, and the Apple Store, it was always on my head. Till I lost it. I noticed it wasn’t among the perpetual clutter of my office a few days after returning from Santa Cruz. I don’t know what happened to it, and my gardening experience has not been the same without it. Imagine how confident a cowboy must feel donning the cowboy hat that ensures his identity. It was the same with this hat. I felt like a gardener. I miss it.
As for the cup. Well, that’s a sad story. I was asked to speak at the State Beekeeper’s Association ladies luncheon last fall and that went really well. Melinda, a well-known and loved Orange County beekeeper, booked me for the event, but, was too ill from a return of her cancer to attend. Her friend, Sandy, stepped in and provided me with a memorable experience. Sandy gave me this lovely flower mug, which has held my tea most mornings since, and has played a supporting role in a number of episodes of Late Bloomer. And I felt like it connected me to Melinda who had thought she was growing Purple Bumble Bee tomatoes from a plant I shared with her until she learned I had mixed up the varieties. She fought the good fight, but cancer had it’s way.
Two days ago, the cup was full of tea, sitting on my little table on the front porch (my Sony A6000 camera that I shoot all of Late Bloomer on was sitting right beside it as I had been photographing a swallowtail caterpillar on my tiny tangerine plant), and I got up to speak to my sometime-helper, Rene, who was working next door (I recommended him when my neighbor’s moved in). I heard a crash behind me, and ran. Linden, my cat, had jumped on the folding chair and it had snapped forward and hit the table, which knocked off the cup, which shattered on the bricks. (Luckily, my camera was still sitting there.) For the next hour, I sat in the chair and mused, as if I had nothing pressing to do, and kept reaching for my cup of tea.
Well, these are just things. And they can be replaced with other things. But, the special feeling that certain objects trigger in you, can’t be replaced, only remembered. After Melinda moved on to the great bee haven in heaven, a Monarch butterfly emerged from a chrysalis I overwintered in my kitchen. And I promptly named her Melinda. She wasn’t a bee, but the next best thing, a butterfly. And she was healthy and strong. ~
If you enjoyed this post, please let me know and share with a friend. Thanks for your support! ~ Kaye
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