How I yearn for lazy, hazy summer evenings, sat in our country cottage garden, with loved ones. The table laden with food, candles, various bottles of wine, ale, lager, spirits and the soft drinks. The chuckles that arise from a certain knowledge that only beloved friends and family share. The underlying comfort of what is a ritualistic way to gather, without it actually being a ritual. It has just become so, through the joyful familiarity of the rhythm of it all.
There is a playfulness and a banter among us. There is a sense of caring and belonging that comes from the pure desire to simply value and appreciate each other. There is an interest in the experiences each bring forth into conversation, about life. There can be tears, when pain is shared. There can be heightened tones when subjects of controversy or polarity are debated. Yet, gathered together in the candlelight of a lazy, hazy summers eve, there is nothing more than a group hug taking place. An embrace that satiates and delights us all.
Watching, from low down, two cheeky little dogs who are ready to pounce on anything that may drop from the grainy surface of the hand made wooden table. From above, in the mighty oak and at distance, the wide eyes of the owl, in the field beside our cottage, observes as the human folk sit above the two terriers in a chatter far noisier than the morning crows. An occasional hoot signals her gracious presence. Lights, twinkling in the deep darkness of a country lane, above a garden patio that is a stage where the characters are all smiling from sheer joy.
Yes, I yearn for lazy, hazy summer evenings, sat in our country cottage garden, with loved ones.
(c) Deano Parsons. 2021.