Last night we were blessed with a good rain. My recently planted dooryard garden is just a tiny part of the grateful earth, but it is meanigful to me. I have there the twice transplanted white flowering quince and paper whites that were around our dear red cape once. I wrote a book on rugs for my red cape a few years ago, and the beginning and the ending spoke of the paper whites blooming again as a marker for the turning of a new year and a new begining.
These will not bloom this year, being taken up and replanted in a new yard just as they would have flowered. The long leaves laying flat but living and green, giving promise for the future are like an image of my heart now. Though they cannot bloom now, I know that by and by there will be flowers again. e
Welcome to My Red Cape. Long ago in another time my husband Jack and I lived in a little old red house. It was the stuff of dreams to us for the few years that we were there. I live there still a number of hours every day in imagination, with old dolls and paintings and fabrics and feather trees. I draw inspiration and happiness from the memories of that space in time and share some of it here with friends who remember how to step with Alice through the looking glass and take delight in whimsies and antiquities.
~Edyth O’Neill
