Made a huge pot this morning—needed something with a punch (on the label and otherwise) after a hard, hard Saturday. Left to himself in the fridge to chill, Thomas is, I believe, even a bit stouter than freshly brewed.
This afternoon I’m raising my mason jar in memory of a dear friend who loved tea, loved kids, loved to write, and loved her God. Jill, save me a place on your front porch in Heaven … we’ll have another cuppa together yet.
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Somewhat belated, but still. My condolences for your loss.
Thank you. She loved practical jokes, and ironically, a week after her passing, I received an e-mail from her inbox. Spam. I can just see her laughing maniacally and slapping Gabriel on the shoulder watching me try to figure that one out.
Somewhat belated, but still. My condolences for your loss.
Thank you. She loved practical jokes, and ironically, a week after her passing, I received an e-mail from her inbox. Spam. I can just see her laughing maniacally and slapping Gabriel on the shoulder watching me try to figure that one out.