Another Pot O' Tea

Another Pot O’ Tea, November 2025

One summer, when my son Jacob was about 10 years-old (around 2007) , he helped me work on a scrapbook. Or maybe he was working on his own scrapbook. All I can recall for certain is that he spent hours in our dining room turned craft studio making something. Colorful card stock, stickers, glue, scissors, hole punches, do-dads and lots of colored pens.

I was determined to complete a family photo album. I’ve always had a hard time working to music (I usually require silence for deep work), but that summer, I found something that soothed my spirit as I worked. A compact disc player and an old CD by Anne Murray. We must have listened to that CD over fifty times, and one song, Another Pot O’ Tea, stuck in our heads forever. (The song Another Pot o' Tea was written by Paul Grady and was first recorded and released by Anne Murray in 1974.) I can’t say why the song stuck for Jacob, only that he still recalls it to this day. But for me, the song will always remind me of that sweet time when your children are connected to you like your hand is connected to your arm. An extension of you—so exquisite that you cannot imagine your life without it. This is the phase of child development when children think the sun rises and sets in their mother, before they begin the necessary work of separating from their parents. I can picture the scene. I feel the warm breeze coming in the window. I hear Anne Murray’s soft melody. Mother and son working side-by-side in harmony. It’s a beautiful memory. Put on another pot o’ tea.

Start with Love

The Guest House
Rumi

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

With Gratitude

. . . for all we are given.

Produce Stand, Leavells Road, Spotsylvania | November 2025

Today’s post is in memory of my mother-in-law, Alice, who passed away peacefully in her sleep yesterday morning at the age of 93. She was a guiding light for our family; strong-willed, determined, generous, and steadfast. We will miss her dearly. She was a practical person. More prone to show her love through actions than words, but she never failed to show-up when needed, and always with love and humor and a can-do attitude.

Alice Hopkins, June 2021

To celebrate Alice’s life, I meandered here and there, taking a few pictures along the way. I stopped at the local produce stand just a mile from my home. The stand is situated near a gas station/convenience market in a small strip mall. In the early morning light, the owner had not yet opened and the offerings were slim. The last of the little pie pumpkins scattered here and there. Mums faded and toppled over. A few gourds and squash on the wooden tables. I took my photographs, leaving every element just as I found it, and then headed on my way. As I drove home, late in the afternoon, I noticed the stand had been cleared out leaving only the tent and bare tables. I know from past history, the Christmas trees and wreaths will come next. Time will move on, and we will savor every minute. It’s not about slowing time down, but rather, filling time up.