on citrus cakes and tea and how things come to be
happy middle of the week.
i’m all about anticipation these days.
the anticipation of spring.
of dinners taken outside,
of strands of twinkly lights.
like the feeling
just before the spinning wheels
of your aircraft connect with
those few seconds you hover there,
i love those moments.
anticipation of landing.
it’s those days
all but absorbed, in the season before.
momentarily stuck in the last legs of winter.
and it’s then that i bake with citrus more,
and i drink, so many cups of tea.
i fiddle with flour and sugar
and rinds of pithy fruits.
i bake lemon loaves
and pound cakes
and citrus-scented puddings.
the last bits of winter baking,
before the tart curds of spring.
it’s more than the change of season though.
perhaps you remember
a man i told you of once before.
well, he taught me too.
oh and to always add, an extra lemon.
he was right on both counts.
when all else fails, listen.
and every other time, just add more lemon.
i smirk, saying that to you now,
becasue, he really believed it so.
and i love him for that.
i remember the
wooden of his pick-up truck,
filled with that days market goods.
lemons and grapefruits and oranges.
the sounds of its tires
bouncing down our gravel drive.
as clear today,
as when i was ten.
he’d take water from our well,
and he’d chat with my father outside.
and then, he’d come in for tea and a game.
and for my favorite bit,
the bit where,
we’d trade stories over cake.
he’d tell us of the bees he kept.
the cold mornings in saskatchewan.
he’d tell us of
his friends lost at war.
he’d teach us their history,
we’d learn about life.
and it’s becasue of him
that today and any old day at all
i’m happy to trade cake
for a story.
and you know what else,
i ate three pieces in honour of him.
happy almost spring friends.
hope your day is grand.
love. yup, i said that.
(i’m imagining them in 5 years)