the shoe on the tea table or apologies graciously accepted

My Dear Readers,

It has been sometime since I've put my pen to paper to write the goings on here on Deerfield Farm. Life here, it seems, is always humming with much to do.
Snow falls and melts as soon as it touches the warming fields. Fat green buds are coming out on the old lilac and the robins have taken up residence in the elms on the pond bank.

Early this morning, a meadowlark was singing from the old willows,

a sure sign that spring is coming.

Life in the doll's house is also humming with much to do

and much has occured with the ladyes and Mr. Jefferson since my last writing to you.

So here I will begin again with the continuation of our story

Mr. Jefferson comes calling ~

my dear Madame...

and

the shoe on the tea table

or

apologies graciously accepted.

When we last visited, Mr. Jefferson was dangling a thin sock with a large hole in the toe that desperately needed mending.

Let's peek into the doll house and listen in....

"of course, dear Mr. Jefferson", I replied, "and again, I do apologize for not anticipating such a response to your coming."

He touched his hand to the tip of his paper hat, smiled and nodded.

From the sewing box I found an old ribbon sash to tie his make-do robe snug around his waist and a pair of old wool doll socks to keep his feet warm, for which he was most grateful.

That evening, the ladyes, prettied and polished, presented Mr Jefferson with their most sincerest of apologies and curtsies as well as a plate of macaroons.

He graciously accepted.

A sigh of relief emitted from the ladyes and he, in turn, made light of losing his footing on the tippy parlor table with a most amusing reenactment of the event which gained uproars of laughter from everyone around the room.

No one seemed to notice when, but sometime during the evening, Mr. Jefferson's lost shoe miraculously appeared on the tea table next to the sugar bowl.

We all then settled in for a cozy evening in front of the fire

where Mr. Jefferson regaled us for several hours with stories of his growing up in the woods of Virginia, his family and of course the largest hog he ever raised.

And so begins our long friendship with Mr. Jefferson,
the handsome country gentleman farmer from Virginia.

~~~~~~