Monday, August 23, 2010

On, In and Around Mondays: Greensleeves, Green Tea, and a Circlet

mountain dulcimer

"Where's the stapler?" she asks.

I answer with my usual reminder, "You guys used the stapler and never put it back. You'll have to find something else." I imagine the black stapler is cavorting with dust bunnies under my younger daughter's bed, along with The Magic Treehouse: Christmas in Camelot, which I tell the librarian we have lost but will find someday in the abyss.

My daughter looks at the ceiling, frowns, and walks away.

I am at the dining room table. Sunset-golden walls reflect morning light. I'm sipping a green tea I bought on the streets of Granada, Spain. It is called "Te de Carpi." My favorite part is the lavender-blue petals. What kind of flower is that, nestled in full-leaved green tea?

Not ten minutes ago, I took a slight teaspoon of the mix and placed it in the tea basket to brew. I leaned to take in the fragrance, light and promising, then stared at the dwindling jar of leaves. It won't be long now. And I don't know that I'll ever walk those streets again.

"Look." My daughter has returned. Her small hand pushes a collection of papers in front of my face. The papers are connected by a piece of green yarn, the same pearly-slate-green as my tea leaves. "Do you know why I used green?" she asks.

I want to tell her to go away. I am sipping my morning tea. I like the quiet of the moment.

"Why?" I entertain her question.

"Because of the song."

She has found the lyrics to Greensleeves on the Internet, copied them into Microsoft Word, and printed them on two pages now connected by a small piece of green yarn. The circlet of yarn should be smaller, I think. There is too much space and the pages hang apart as if they are possibly not together at all. A staple would be better.

"Can I sing it for you?" she asks.

My morning tea is officially interrupted now. I acquiesce. "Sure, sing it to me." She sings the first verse and the chorus, then nods in my direction and points to the next verse. I sing and am surprised at how much our voices sound alike, though hers is softer, younger, sweet in the way that only a child's voice can be. And now we have decided, without planning it ahead of time, that we will sing this song together taking turns.

The last verse is mine. While she is finishing her chorus I whisper, "Let's sing it together." We do. Her voice and mine, loosely held in harmony, as if by a pearl-green circlet of yarn.

Sonia's Dulcimer (on which she loves to play 'Greensleeves'), photo by L.L. Barkat.


On, In and Around Mondays (which partly means you can post any day and still add a link) is an invitation to write from where you are. Tell us what is on, in, around (over, under, near, by...) you. Feel free to write any which way... compose a tight poem or just ramble for a few paragraphs. But we should feel a sense of place.

Would you like to try? Write something 'in place' and add your link below. If you could kindly link back here when you post, it will create a central meeting place. :)

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Anonymous Anonymous said...

Aw, this is so sweet! I laughed so hard at the library book and the abyss under the bed. So familiar with that mysterious place, with two daughters (teenagers and STILL taking and misplacing things).

LL, the way you take a common morning and turn it into a colorful painting of words that give me little goose bumps of love...

My little girl moves into college today.

So sweet.

9:17 AM  
Blogger Red Letter Believers said...

I like the quiet of the morning too -- I'm selfish about it. Dont bother me! I'm reading! I'm thinking! I'm studying! I'm contemplating!

But if I brush away those people in my life, I might just be missing out on the best blessing of all, as you reminded us in your post.

10:53 AM  
Blogger Maureen said...

What a beautiful dulcimer that is.

I used to play "Greensleeves" a lot on the piano. I haven't heard it sung in years. A lovely Monday moment you two shared.

10:57 AM  
Blogger Unknown said...

this is my new favourite.

11:16 AM  
Blogger Jeanne Damoff said...

LOVE this. Such a great reminder to enter life's unscripted moments. How much we miss.

11:34 AM  
Blogger Louise Gallagher said...

This is delightful! And gentle and melodic.


1:52 PM  
Blogger Unknown said...

This is such a lovely moment! You prompted me to pull out my treasured tin of Earl Grey Creme to combat my cold-driven misery. Thank you.

RAP poem -

2:59 PM  
Blogger Laura said...

Oh, I wish I were a fly on the wall. Ok, not a fly...maybe a butterfly? I bet the duet was gorgeous. Greensleeves, green tea...perfect harmony. Your girls just capture me each time you drop a little kernel about them here. What amazing young ladies they are.

Hey, you know what I was thinking? My post over at HCB today is kind of an "On, In and ARound Mondays." It was all about where I was when I was there, anyway.

5:32 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh, I love that tea time became a singing time and in the end you were ok with that. Ok with the interruption.

6:32 PM  
Anonymous HisFireFly said...

I can almost hear your melodies entwined..

and thinking now "what child is this?" How He calls us to remember Him in so many ways!

8:09 PM  
Blogger Michelle DeRusha said...

I am breathing a sweet sigh of contentment at this story. Interruption...sometimes worth it, yes?

I always grimace when I hear my youngest's feet hit the floor before 7 a.m. I think, "Hey man, this is my time!" But more often than not he's snuggly in the early morning -- and at no other time of the day. I have to take it when I can get it...even if it means an interruption in my morning reverie.

10:16 PM  
Blogger Faith Hope and Cherrytea said...

loving the snapshot !
blue strawflowers - in case you really did want to know :)

10:55 PM  
Blogger ELK said...

this made the tears flow..i thank you for sharing such beautiful moments between you and your sweet one...

7:03 AM  
Anonymous HisFireFly said...

I've posted my addition to your Random Acts of Poetry prompt "solace" this morning:

11:34 AM  
Blogger Mommy Emily said...

you love so deeply.

i read this in your words, your love for daughter, and it makes me ache.

utterly beautiful.

1:02 PM  

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