Monday, June 15

Timeless {Cherry Swirl Ice Cream}

"I went away next year-
Spent a season in Kashmir-
Came back thinner, rather poor,
But richer by a cherry tree at my door."
- Cherry Tree by Ruskin Bond

I used to love it when my kids would bring me the Book of Verse by Ruskin Bond.  You know how young children become enamored with adult books.  They settle themselves comfortably on the sofa, flipping through the pages as if they're reading, so grown-up.  Never mind that the book is upside-down, or that they're reading from back to front.  The important thing is that they're acting just like an adult; just like Mommy.  There they'd sit for a while, flipping the pages every few seconds, until they'd find their favourite poem, tucked among the children's verses in back.  Then they'd place the open book on my lap...

"Please read the one about the window," Connor would implore.

"Can we read the one about the cherry tree instead?"  I'd ask.  Then quickly add, "We can read them both!"

Eve, night-owl as she's always been, preferred me to read about the dark.  It starts "Little one, don't be afraid..."

"Can we read the one about the cherry tree, too?"  I'd ask.  Shameless!  I know. 

"OK, Mamma!"

That seems like just yesterday, though it was years ago.  A lifetime to them; a mere moment to me.  They can both read on their own, now.  Great literary works like Captain Underpants and the American Girl Doll series.  And they almost never ask me to read to them.  I guess I'm feeling rather nostalgic these days.  Missing the times when they were happy to listen to what I wanted to read.  But things change.  Time moves on.

I haven't thought of that poem about the cherry tree for a while.  Things have been so busy around here these days.  The book sits on the shelf gathering dust - waiting, along with all the other books I promised myself I'd read again.  Someday.  Time ticks on, and still they sit.  Patient.  Unopened.  Sleeping.

I know it's been a while since I wrote my last blog post.  In the spring when it was raining and still cool enough for soup.  Again, time escapes me.  I grasp at it, but it's always just beyond my reach.  But today I found something in the yard that changed all that.  Something that surprised me, though it shouldn't have, and reminded me of those sweet poems we used to read together at night.