Mrs. Teabody Greets the Day

Yesterday morning I woke to pouring rain and chose for my morning walk a turtleneck, jeans, and an insulated vest, along with scarf, hat and gloves. By one o'clock I was in short sleeves and Mr. Teabody was "catching some rays" inside the secret garden. Crazy October and as we slide into its finale of Hallowe'en, I can't help recalling a day inside my classroom with an administrator and the topic of devil worship. Like most female teachers, I paid homage to the seasons and holidays by way of door decorations and bulletin boards and as this was in the days just prior to political correctness, angels and the Christ child showed up for a few weeks before Christmas with the same regularity as colorful baskets of eggs and bunnies alongside a glowing cross for a few weeks before Easter. And what teacher (like myself) was going to let Hallowe'en go by with all its cool imagery and not take advantage of the chance to decorate? I had the gamut of images bought a

*Caveat: the following provides the information from a lecture on British Tea Style presented at the Pennsylvania Tea Festival on September 27, 2019. Just a few months from now, Mr. Teabody and I will embark on yet another, much-anticipated holiday in England -- Yorkshire this time. Imagine that! After so many trips abroad, I am still THRILLED to be going to England! Next to my very own home in rural Pennsylvania, England/Great Britain/the United Kingdom is my very favorite place to be. Perhaps it is yours as well? How did this now decades-long love affair begin and how did my Anglophilia bring me to where I am today: owning my own tea shop, playing a role in my community's social  and business scenes,  giving teas for charities and being part of a tea association? How did a person who grew up on a farm become such a fan of all things British? It was a gradual process. Let's be clear: I am no less an American because I love England so much. After all, I'v

Death is a one-way street. All the wishing in the world cannot alter its finality. Loss means sadness and all grief is personal. And while we do wonder and fret over death's impact on all those left behind, what it ultimately comes down to is the fact that someone we love no longer walks this earth. No more texts, no E-mails with laugh-worthy attachments, no wildly inappropriate or absolutely perfect birthday cards, no "you've made my day" surprise visits and no long-planned reunions. Death has taken any and all future plans and crushed them under his foot. And so we grieve. And like the poet says, "It is Margaret you mourn for." We grieve for our own loss, for that gaping chasm in our lives that nothing will ever fill; we grieve for our own mortality. Poet Gerard Manly Hopkins tells us: Spring and Fall: To a Young Child Márgarét, are you gríeving Over Goldengrove unleaving? Leáves, líke the things of man, you With your fresh thoughts care for

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do.” – Mark Twain Mr. Friese poses with The Band before our departure from Mercersburg to Dulles. If there has been a tougher end of March into late April 2019, then my memory has lost it. If I could take the collective grief associated with the loss of a beautiful and kind cousin, a genuinely funny and loving son of a friend, and the brilliant but down-to-earth beloved physician and turn that grief into food, I could feed the world. However, in the middle of all this loss and heartache, there was a trip that had been planned for almost a year. Over how many lunches, through how many hours of research in guide books and on the internet did planning and discussion turn into an itinerary. Flights had been purchased, a flat rented and those two major investments along with the time involved had to be respected. While almost every part of my being wanted to wallow in my