Knitting at L.'s

A bunch of us get together about once a month (usually not July or December because everyone has too much else going on, but the other ten months anyhow) to play ladies and drink tea and knit and socialize and eat quantities of treats. This month, L. Was kind enough to host the soiree. She lives in the country on the bank of a river. Driving to her home, through the August morning, was a treat in and of itself. Wish I had a chauffeur so I could gawk more thoroughly at the estates I passed. One horse ranch - pardon me - "equestrian facility" - even had a barn with a million-dollar view. And the house would suit the queen of England.

But when I wended my way down the hill and along all the winding roads overhung with the late summer trees, and found L.'s home, I was so enchanted I didn't want to leave. This is a home where peace and beauty are important. The river flows by about 40 feet below, and the whole house faces the view. The bedroom overlooks the river. Imagine lying in bed and being able to watch the water flow past. Under the stars, in the sun, in the rain, morning and evening and duck-hunkered noon, the river quietly, patiently, irresistibly flows past. Oh L., how I envy your view!

Walking through the front door was like passing through some magic portal. Warmth and intelligence and graciousness resonated off all the walls. And the food? Omigawd, the food!
The most perfect ripe strawberries with cream-fraiche for dipping. Lemon-blackberry muffins with cardamom. Ginger cookies with lemon zest. And delectable treats in the shape of a chocolate-almond tender meringue. Also French cherry-flavored tea. I nearly waddled out. It made me glad to have tastebuds!

Summer is busy for folks, and our numbers were low. We began asking about one another's antecedants and found, to some surprise, that one of our number is a missionary kid who was sent off to boarding school at tender age of six. The things you never learn about people till you ask!

L has a bathroom with a soaking tub to swoon over. Since I had the wandering mitten along, I asked if I could extend the mitten's tub crawl. L. was delighted with the idea. Her husband had come in for lunch by that time, and was puzzled by us giggling in the bathroom and taking pictures of knitting. It's hard to explain, but he very wisely took the attitude that since it gives us such simple pleasure, it's not necessary for him to comprehend.

It would be good to take a nice brisk walk to start working off all those treats. On the other hand, this might be a hard winter, and I may need that thermal quilt of fat on my ribs. We'll see what happens.