I picture in my mind, this dandy teapot, sitting in a cozy kitchen, on a table for two . . . maybe, a vase full of colorful flowers sits in the center of the table and a sunshiny, yellow tablecloth is spread out across the table. A sweet, grandmother lady is bustling about the kitchen, chattering to her lifelong friend, or possibly a granddaughter, as she pulls chocolate chip cookies, hot out of the oven and waits for the tea kettle, on the stove, to whistle merrily. Oh! Did I mention, it’s springtime?
“A quarter past three,” she exclaimed, catching sight of the bedside clock. “What a time to be drinking tea!”
“Anytime,” Harold told her, “is time to be drinking tea.” Miss Read
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