Dream Fragment 11-21-07

We gather for luncheon in a tidy dining room off the kitchen at Grandmother's. A simple charming room populated by a trestle table, covered in Bruges lace and Limoges service painted in Provencal colour and taste.

Understated conversation and motions domestic bright - whistling along in anticipation of our guest. We ring the table in final inspection, seeing everything just so. Aunt Rose fusses the finality of a grand tureen; Aunt Jenny straightens the place settings; Grandmother overseeing their actions; and I, in favoured metier, observe all.

And in he comes from the door opposite, sweetly familiarly bussing Les Belles, dear dear friends all.

We arrange ourselves and settle in, sampling our wit and wares, an amalgam of Proust and Cezanne, a supremely civilized hour. After, all arise as one for a turnabout the grounds without; a landscape pastorals rolling fields, of primary green and lavendar washes; poppies here and there bleeding their hearts overall: within sheltering borders of crushed grey stone.

I can't recall the conversation...though that's not really the point is it.

Copyright 2007 R.O.H. Just a Girl

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