Book End Cottage

I was visiting a farm market in luscious Michigan one day and noticed they were selling cherries. I love cherries. As I stared at them wistfully thinking about how they would taste, I was brought back to a wonderful memory. I have a friend who used to live in Old Colorado City which is one of the few places in southern Colorado that has grass and trees. It is a charming place to visit. I love looking at all of the old houses and wondering what they look like inside. My friend had a little house right next to the library and during the summer that Aidan was just a baby she had an open house every weekend any and all visitors allowed. She insisted I come and visit her and not to bother calling first. I feel uncomfortable just showing up at people's houses, but since she was so insistent, I took her up on her offer. I couldn't help myself. She had an English-style garden in her front yard with a little picket fence. On her porch was a swing and she always served tea to her guests. Inside, her house was full of books and we shared a love of Jane Austen. I'm a sucker for that kind of stuff. The Saturday that I went to visit her, she served me tea and fresh fruit from the farmer's market a block away. Aidan was playing on a blanket on the floor and we talked about all kinds of things. I was in heaven. When it was time for me to go, she escorted me to the farmer's market down the street. All kinds of fresh produce was being sold, even honey and bread. I came home with the best bread in the whole world and a bag of cherries. I sat down at the kitchen table and proceeded to hog on them with the boys following suit. They were sweet and juicy and I couldn't get enough of them. Now, every time I see cherries, I think of her and her generous and sweet spirit. I will never forget her or her little house where we had tea and fruit.