Every Cottage Needs a Porch of Potted Herbs

Today Amy & I made a trip out to the Farms,

so I could get my milk and pick up some herbs.

When I got home, I settled myself down

and got myself to work.

 And when the day was done,

I didn't mind the view.

(I'm not the only one who thinks so.)

I have a pair of piano students,

a dear friend of mine 

and her well-loved child.

During the school year,

their lessons are on different days,

different time zones in the day.

But it's summer, 

and so hence, they come together.

This, at times, means that the well-loved child 

needs to find ways to entertain herself.

[This, at times, means that we have to tell 

the well-loved child to, in fact, entertain herself.]

"I need a friend!" one day she cries,

all up in our face.

"Go upstairs," I say direct,

"for up there a friend waits."

As in: my well-loved teddy bear,

from whence I was a child.

She gets him, she claims him,

she takes him outside.

We see her through the windows and doors, 

wandering around the yard.

Talking to him.

Suddenly, a little head and these little notes begin to appear,

over our piano-working shoulders:

 messages from the child,

and her friend, the bear.

Today I do my own bit of wandering around,

and find this scrap of yellow,

 lost beneath a chair.

I pick it up, and think:

this truly is a magical place,

and I'm not the only one who thinks so.

Stanley has competition

Last summer, as I sat in my yard next to my pond,

I was often joined by a little baby squirrel.

He'd stretch himself out across the rocks, 

slurping lazily at the water.

He had red in his coat,

and a wiry tail.

I called him Bradley,

and claimed him as my very own.

As the summer went on, 

I watched Bradley grow into a fine young squirrel,

until--one day--I saw a Bradley-esque figure,

crushed in the road at the end of my driveway.

I began to notice he didn't come around anymore...

and concluded my Bradley had met a sad end.

I'm a pragmatist, so I got over it pretty quick.

Then there was yesterday, in which Stanley came to call.

He creeped me out, if you want to know the truth.

But this morning as I sat in my cozy chair, 

talking things over with the Lord,

I heard a commotion out by the window

and went to investigate.

"Stanley." I thought;

but no:

This little guy was tiny,

with red in his coat and a wiry tail.

He looked at me and aloud I cried--

Bradley?! Bradley Jr.?

And then he nose dived into the bush,

in what has to be the most hilarious thing I've seen all week.

Move over Stanley;

Bradley Jr. is on the scene.

He can't seem to get enough...

My new friend Stanley spent the afternoon 

hopping onto the frame of the window

looking inside as if to say:

Whatcha' doin' in there?

Weirdest thing, ever.

I do have a friend!

A large amount of my friends have gone away,

leaving me to sit in cottage quietude for the summer.

And so, when this guy decided he would insist on joining me,

[no matter how many times I banged on the window to send him away]

I named him Stanley, and I said:
oh, OK.

Sweet Friends...

...pick me strawberries from their garden.

Cottage Days of Summer

I call it:

My outdoor office.