Every morning, without fail, the ladies show up for tea. They wear frocks that are kind of drab. Tea has been going on for awhile, so they don’t feel the need to dress up. I also think they’ve been together for most of their lives, so impressing each other is just passe. I think that because I have wonderful friends who don’t feel the need to wear fancy colors, big hats, or uncomfortable shoes just to sit for tea.

Anyhow, each day one can almost set their clock by it, the gals congregate. They nod, they talk quietly, and abruptly leave, only to return in a few minutes, something I cannot understand. Of course, I’m on the outside looking in, not having ever been invited. They also like to be relatively alone….and move in unison when something or someone comes into view. I’m thinking they discuss things that are strictly intimate because their actions dictate complete privacy.

And then…as quickly as they’ve assembled, the tea is over. It’s like someone is calling. One thinks maybe the kids have come home from school, but the ladies must have teens by now. Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. They speak their own slang, their own language, and even tho it is beautiful, it something I can’t seem to grasp.

Only later in the day do I see each of them again, returning for a simple bath, a quiet time, maybe before starting supper for their brood. They nod to one another, and get a little flustered if the area gets crowded, however all irritations seem to dissolve in the fluttering bath of my tea ladies, the finches who share my yard til they vacation south of the border.