Wednesday, April 13, 2011
A few words from Ivy
Ivy just didn't want to get out of bed, It was so cozy under her quilt, ragged as it was getting, it held the memories of all the shirts and dresses she had made over the years. And the batting wasn't . batting but a folded flannel blanket that belonged to her Grandmother. The light shown in through her window, the sky was cloudless finally after several days of light snow, and a few birds were bravely singing their love songs.
Ivy snuggled under the covers again, but by now she was awake, and coffee was sounding very good.
It wasn't unusual for there to be snow in April, the year that Will bought the Chevy pick-up, there was 8 inches of snow on April 11th. Back then there was always something going on, the kitchen bustled with comings and goings. With the making of the leek sausage from the last of the venison, always had leek sausage at Easter time. Will would bring home sacks of leeks, watercress, wild asparagus, tree mushrooms and fiddlehead ferns and whatever else he could find. But after many years she had grown used to the house being so quiet.
The coffee was ready, and leasurly drank it while she looked out the window at her frozen garden and searched for the first signs of daffodils. Even the snowdrops were not blooming yet. Picking up her copy of "Martha Stewart Living" Ivy mumbled "I hope I look as good as you do at 70, ole girl!" as she lifted the cover off the cage she said "Right, Mr. Chips?"
The sofa looked so inviting, but she chose the chair near the window, and settled in to read.
Ivy awoke with a jolt, her magazine thudded on the floor, Mr Chips was chirping happily away, and she could hear a vehicle pulling out of the driveway. After she was sure that no one would see her in her panamas, she went opened the inside door and picked up the pot of miniature daffodils. "Who would...her voice drifted off, as she read the card...."I know you would rather have a plant than live flowers."
Ivy stood there in the sun porch, pot of daffodil in her hand. Picked up the glass egg from its perch on the windowsill and walked back into the house closing the door behind her.
Still, misty, warm night air century plant blossoms, so white look! a tiny sparkle