Flowered Dresses mark the Time
Sunday morning in the Hogg household.
This bright Sunday morning, Jenny brought out as many as twenty summer dresses from her closet, going back over a decade, ready to take the charity shop tomorrow morning. They are all beautiful, and I can recall a story for each of them.
Jenny placed the chosen dresses on the bed, and I looked through the various styles and patterns, many of which were tasteful prints of flowers, some bold, others delicate.
I asked, “Do you have the dress we first met in?” She reminded me we met in mid-winter, Christmas, 1999. Two minutes later she returned from her closet, carrying every item she had worn that day. Seriously, down to her underwear, which I never saw.
I don’t know why such a reveal should overcome me. She put her arms around and told me I was such a softie.
Having wiped away a few tears and turned my attention back to the dresses laid out on the bed, there are patterns of daisies, azaleas, roses, daffodils, Canterbury bells, morning glory, snow-in-June, and bougainvillea, but here is another thing, every dress was the same size. (Deleted content)😂
Jenny reminded me that we are very lucky people. For almost twenty
years we were fully living in California, a while in Marin County, near San Francisco, and in Mendocino. When I first came to the States, to make my life here, housing costs weren’t low, it is after all, California, great climate, near San Francisco, but across the Bay, just far enough to be outside the fog belt.
In our first home, our backyard stretched all the way to the Golden Gate Bridge! It was a beautiful home. Then, when I bought my first American car, which was a German make, I had it only two days before it was crunched.
No matter the circumstances, Jenny always wanted to make our place more interesting, more beautiful, or in her words, more romantic. It was nothing to spend lots of her free time on keeping the home tidy, in and out; and she even prune the trees in the front yard from time to time.
Of course, she would be very happy if I gave her a hand in what she was doing.
I remember the day we moved into our first home together, near Tiburon, on the second day, Jenny had delivered fifty flowerpots! I had never a doubt after that we would never be without a remarkable garden even if we only had a large balcony. When we moved to Mendocino, she had acres to plant!
Regarding one’s retirement, both Jenny and I talked about it more often after 2010. It went something like this: Before retiring, (I was self-employed) I should be reticent that we will have grandchildren in that time.
“If possible,” I said, “I would like to devote more time being a story writer, living with all my heart, reading and writing with all my mind and might.”
“Really?” Jenny said with a smile, and who seemed to have known my ambition only too well. “I think you’ve earned every hour of your retirement, honey, and you must spend it the way that brings you pleasure.”
To my surprise, Jenny insisted that I should have a better desk to use,
and bought me a beautiful antique desk within the week. She insisted I would need a big desk for all the creative writing I would want to do. One of the plants pots that sits on my desk is one brought for our first home.
Well, in spite of Jenny’s romantic soul, she can be 💜realistic. She is really my better half, a smart wife! To this day Jenny insists that Squirt was not in the grave I dug in our forest garden. That kind of realism.
Jenny is popular with our friends; I believe because she is always bright, funny, and never leaves them without letting them know they are loved.
Wandering my eyes over the dresses
Worn when the weather was warm
Jenny’s shape so cute and honest
Through the fabric I touch her form
Flouting her beauty shamelessly
I hold a dress against myself
Remember the time she wore it
And bought it off the shelf
I would come to her again
Should she wear it just today
Meet the challenge of her beauty
Before she gives them away
Sometimes the fabric will wrinkle
The satin of a different age
Enhancing her shape and texture
For the poet on this Medium page
By contrast: I’m not tall or have the body every woman wants or desires. But I’m beautiful because I know I’m content with myself in this pink dress! I’m beautiful because… well, because I’m different.😁
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