in ladies slippers
to walk through clover;
dressed in being
with tortoiseshell adornment
all the fashion –
its blush lasting
only as long as the day.
Some of you might remember – this is a re-post. Nothing new under the sun, except as everything is.
If this post drew you over here, please check out some of my previous ones.
Including the last one that offers a chance to win a copy of my new novel and sequel to A House Near Luccoli, To A Strange Somewhere Fled – all you need to do is go over to either of my guest posts at Unusual Historicals (Excerpt Thursday or today, Sunday’s Interview), leave a comment with your email address. What have you got to lose?
Here’s an Summer Solstice appropriate excerpt from To A Strange Somewhere Fled:
On the day of midsummer’s eve the Great Hall gleamed with polish and high sunlight, its woolen rugs taken up and flagstones scrubbed, regal-red upholstered chairs borrowed from Broughton Castle arranged in two short-rowed sections separated by an aisle not quite wide enough for layers of skirts. The fireplace was filled with a display of larkspur, lilies, gilliflowers, ferns, and branching honeysuckle picked and presented by Tobias, and arranged by Lidia under his fussy direction. Tobias also brought sweet peas from “his most successful crop ever” to make nosegays for the ladies while single blooms would suffice for the gentlemen and their buttonholes. The flowers were kept fresh by being kept cold along with the sorbet made possible because of the ice-house Roger had been experimenting with.
The dais at the north end was designated for the music of friends. Roger worried over the personalities that would perform, a program created that listed them in alphabetical order except Master Purcell was acknowledged first to perform last. The chairs and music stands were set up with the expectation they would be moved around to accommodate one complaint or other. Donatella tried to reassure Roger that musicians would always reconcile for the sake of the music, as she had seen Alessandro and Lonati do.
“This is a little madness, don’t you think?” Roger had been full of ideas for the concert, including a bonfire for the villagers behind the Abbey with a table set out on the terrace for sweetmeats and cider.
Summer or Winter!
©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.