Yesterday Ted and I and our houseguest, a book publicist and mother of four who was in Regina to attend a conference for the parents of children with Down syndrome, were invited for lunch with some dear friends of ours. The prairies have been struggling with spring, but yesterday was a perfect May day, warm, sunny and still. Our friends are gardeners and because our spring has been late, the daffodils in their garden were blazing.
We sat in the sunshine, drank champagne and then because one of our hosts was born in South Africa, ate the kind of lunch we would be eating if we were in Pretoria: a gingery silky parsnip soup; Bobotie, a curried ground lamb dish that’s baked in a rich egg custard; curried rice and of course. all the condiments: bananas, chutney and a kind of salsa. For dessert we had homemade cardamon ice cream and sorbet and melon.
The food was sublime and so was the talk. Our conversation was wide-ranging: the freedom each of us had experienced in our very different childhoods; the busy and organized lives of children today; the importance of allowing children to learn how to handle crises; the bizarre world of book publishing; the way the world has changed for gay couples like our hosts who after 25+ years together were married two years ago, and of course, there was a leavening dose of gossip and anecdotes. We drank well but moderately, laughed a lot and enjoyed one another’s company immensely.
Our houseguest was new to our small group, but she fit in effortlessly, and one of our hosts talked about the joy he experienced when old friends brought good people into their circle of acquaintances. He found it transforming. So do I.