Part of Sara's early spring days were spent cleaning the house, planting new trees outside in the front garden, and picking flowers in the back fields. There was not a single joy in her heart bigger than the joy of making fresh arrangements of lilacs. She confessed one day that in the best chapter of her memory book, early April when lilacs were in full bloom, held a special place. She felt heavenly refreshed walking to a huge lilac tree after rain and picking a few stems. In her childish way of taking huge satisfaction in small things, she felt that filling her basket in with huge clusters of heavily scented flowers along with Easter eggs on Sunday was the best. Arranging the flowers in aunt Cecilia's large white antique vases gave her a sense of being grown up. After all, aunt Cecilia would never keep the antique vases around all year unless Sara showed her how beautiful her flower arrangements looked in them.
A group of people walking by her house stopped one day and complimented Sara's hard work in the garden. They were gypsies who were passing by. One of them played the flute for her. Sara handed them warm bread right out of the oven.
The gypsies seemed to be good dancers. Sara watched them dance and finally felt sleepy. After a long day of pulling weeds and admiring singing birds on blossoming apple trees, it was time to take a nap. On their way back on road, the gypsies waved farewell.
No comments:
Post a Comment