Tea Tales

Last night I put away my new dishes. They're special ones; Royal Albert "Val d'Or" - they're from my Nana. She's moved into a smaller place, and has downsized quite a bit lately. A few days ago, when I brought the boxes of them home, I felt as though I was bringing my dowry. It felt funny to think that, but at the same time as I brought home the beautiful white and gold dishes, I was also given Nana's cedar chest. It was a gift from Grandad to her on her 17th Birthday. And now, nearing 85, she is passing it along to me. I love it.

And so, to make room for the new dishes, I began clearing out the china cabinet of everyday bits that I thought I'd ease into the kitchen cupboards.

Out came the pretty set of Japanese rice bowls, the glass bowls with silver rims, the odd egg cup, then...

one...
two...
three...

brownish-taupe pottery mugs and matching cream, sugar, and teapot each with smiling sun faces. It all came flooding back.

Thoughts of their purchase on Quadra Island. Every dream I'd had of the tea I'd drink, and conversations I'd have with friends in the cozy cottage I'd build. It was a timberframe and it would be on Quadra Island, too. It's a magical place, you see. Uncle Noel was talking about them all the time; he'd actually built one up there and I had stayed in it once or twice for holidays. It was simple, and beautiful and could have easily been a place to call home.

I could smell the fire I'd burn in the fieldstone fireplace, hear the cat purring as it sat on my lap. For sure I would make a quilt for that place. There'd be potlucks and gardening parties, cozy times cuddled up with someone special. Intimate conversations punctuated by the sizzle of red and yellow cedar as it warmed the hearth.

It seems even sweeter now in the remembering. Going to Quadra Island to see my great-uncle. Bringing home a teaset and a pocket full of dreams for a sweet future.