Friendship

This afternoon I enjoyed a visit with my friend at the home she and her husband share in Spreckles. They live in one of the old company homes of the Spreckles Sugar Company that ran from 1899 to 1984. They've gone beyond the restoration of this home; anyone entering through one of their arbored gates, who passes through the bounty of their gardens is restored.  It's a small house  that may overflow with family and friends but never feels crowded.  It is not unusual to drop by and observe one or both of them conducting an impromptu tour of their garden for a stranger who couldn't resist asking to have a closer look at the flowers and vegetables that surround the house.  She works a full-time job but her cupboards are full of the preserved goodness from their gardens.  There's always the temptation of fresh pie to have with the coffee that is offered in beautiful vintage mugs.
  
These two people have helped me so much over the years of our friendship.  They sheltered my father during a great storm when I was working.  They comforted us when we suffered painful losses.  She sat with my father and I as he was dying, and they kept me near once he was gone. 


I bought my house when I was still caring for my father. The house had been neglected and badly abused, but it was close to work so I could be near my father.  One evening after work, and after picking my father up from his day care, he and I came to the house to continue the cleaning and the painting that needed to be done in order to move in. It was just dusk and I was surprised to see lights on in the house.  When I entered my two dear friends had just finished scrubbing and painting the front rooms and the bedroom. They'd been there all day while I was at work.  There really are no words for what they give, and not just to me, but to everyone who knows them.  Barb and Don.


In bocca al lupo. m