Making the bed

I missed my blog deadline last week. The third Monday in April is a state holiday in Massachusetts and Maine, to commemorate the Battles of Lexington and Concord. Three-tenths of a mile from our house is the Lexington Battlegreen, where His Majesty’s troops meet the local militia of Lexington. Each year the battle is re-enacted. We open our acre yard for friends, and friends of friends, and anyone who has the least connection to us, for parking. One year we parked 60 cars, and no cars were blocked. This year the forecasted rain lowered our attendance: we parked only 30 cars and hosted about 100 people for breakfast.

Yesterday I walked into our guestroom and had a magical experience. The bed was so neatly made I thought I had stepped into a five-star hotel. The cotton comforter was as smooth as satin. Jim’s cousin was our guest Friday night. He’s a former Air Force pilot and it shows. I was touched by the care he took in the simple act of making the bed.

As I sit here writing, a “Christmas” cactus that decided to bloom for Easter gracefully bends towards my laptop screen. The blossoms are an improbably rich pink. The purple hyacinth I picked this morning perfume the kitchen.