I came downstairs for Lavina’s scones, butter-ready
from the oven, crusty and cratered, awaiting their dollop
The morning clouds had whipped themselves up
to a billow, mounds of soft cream.
The plink plink song of a chaffinch dotted the air like currants.
Daffodils, pats of butter on thin stems, did their little dance, and the edible world spread its feast before me on the fresh green tablecloth.
Oh, how delicious, this sweet Irish spring.
~Barbara Crooker, “Morning Tea” from The Book of Kells
It was nine years ago we visited Northern Ireland where we were surrounded by ever-delicious colors and landscape and gracious hospitality where ever we went.
As I look out at our own rolling green hills and billowy clouds of a Whatcom County springtime, I am filled as if it were all edible feast, reminded of the vibrant green of the Irish countryside, backed by the silhouettes of the nearby Mourne Mountains.
If only all the world could be blessed and tasty as fresh warm scones with jam and a pot of tea.
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