I have always loved the word 'maidenhood'. There is something old-fashioned about it that brings to my imagination a sense of innocence dancing in light-filled daisies.
Before I got married, I lived in a house with these five dear friends. I used to think of all of us as a bower of maidens who lived in a dry warm nest, with soft ferns to lie on and petals in our hair...
This was very fanciful, I admit, but I am simply addicted to being fanciful. It makes the world such a lovely place.
(I also used to think of us as pomegranate seeds growing in one skin, being shaped by each other as we swelled into wise, wise women, but that is another story.)
All this to say, my maidenhood bower spent a weekend in June on Cameno Island, celebrating all that makes us maidens. (No boys.)
It was a wonderful set of days filled with play,
relaxation, good food,
good books and the unfettered speech of sisters.
Until we are together again....
No comments:
Post a Comment