The Neighbourhood for Tea

The highway was not so busy then
In my little world of very young
Perhaps a mile long of neighbourhood
On the northern slope running
The water's western arm
Flowing down from the big lake
In search of the Columbia River's
Private entrance to the sea.

Our little farm of sixteen acres
Soon dotted with flowers made
My mother's preference for color
Fade the market garden that was there
It did not suit her sensibilities with
Three teen age sons
And my small self
The cow and the chickens too.
There was always time to walk
Along that highway stretch
Clinging tightly to her hand
Buffeted by the wind from the big trucks
As we went to visit the inhabitants
Some elderly with no family by
Retired and always ready
To serve a cup of tea.

In a tiny cabin lived an elderly couple
Where we sat together next
To the big grandfather clock
Dominating the tiny abode with pompous gongs
The husband I did not then understand
Nursing a wife whose mind
Had wandered far away
His tenderness toward her
And us when my father was away
Working in the bush
He would visit and chat
While my mother ironed and I
Who sometimes could be rude
Would be corrected by him
Much to my chagrin.

It was he who was central
To a little drama when I was four or so
I could not resist
The candy in the Safeway store in town
Eye level and available in such
Colors and pretty wrappings
I lied when we got home
Saying our elderly friend
Had made a gift
After all, it fit my expectations
The fib was badly told
I was in trouble on several fronts
My mother for stealing
Our friend for the lying implication
My penance being to return
The stolen loot to the big store
A checkout lady who gravely received
Candy and apology in return
For my tearful humiliation and remorse.


The house to the east
The Anglican vicarage
Warmly welcomed by the
Elderly pair with an unhappy son
Whose gentle kindness
Puzzled and widened my
View of the religious world.

To the west the little family
On one acre of green
Their teen-age daughter
Fan of the fifties hit parade
Introduced music with social attitudes
Made me want to sing
If only You are My Sunshine.

Across the highway from the acre
A beautiful sandy point
Whose cabins were summer busy
Empty in winter
Then there would be time for tea
I would watch the ducks out on the lake
Savor the sweets as adult
Conversation drifted outside my thoughts
And I pondered the mystery of how
Our hostess managed to have blue hair.

At the farthest west along
The road of my little world
A family of boys, interesting
But only from a safe distance
They too in service of summer folk
The beaches busy
The waterway filled with boats
While my mother and I
Many Sunday afternoons
Would visit for tea and cakes
A lady who with her brother
Lived in a quaint little house
Filled with beautiful furniture from
A past big prairie city life
The ticking of the mantle clock
And the easy chair near the picture window
Filled with a big tree just outside
Where she sat and watched
The bluejay and squirrel dodge and weave
For the peanuts to be fought over
And the scoldings that took place each time.

In those early years in life
Only one other girl lived close by
A year older and looked up to
We would visit her grandparents farm
Just up the hillside where
The pig smell dominated
The corner that took the turn towards home
The rabbits that nibbled constantly
Gazing out from their cages with their big eyes
Which made me incapable of enjoying
Them on a dinner plate.

It was her aunt
Small and bent over
Who babysat my time
When parental absence needed help
She lived up on the hill above
In an orchard of apple trees
Tiny house, silent husband
Soon to be gone into time
When only the tall grass would
Wave in the wind colored with sunlight
Where I would go and sit in the fragrant field
Serenaded by the grasshoppers
In sudden happiness overwhelmed
By this small world that was mine.