Eat, drink, share, remember...

 Around 15 years ago Chris and I chose a picnic table for our backyard. It was to be a Mother's Day gift, and we were delighted by it. That very first day when we placed it in the yard, magic began. I had puttered about the yard all that day, and in the evening Chris and I sat at our new table to share a glass of wine. Moments later Chris said, "Huh." I looked at him and saw he was staring into the field behind the house. I glanced where he was gazing and saw what I thought for one moment was a horse trotting towards us. I quickly formulated a plan for how to catch this loose horse. I'd grab a lead rope and a bucket, put some grain in it... then the "horse" turned, and low and behold, it was a moose. Right in front of us. 

Over the ensuing years, that table was the centerpiece of our yard. We fed friends and family endless rounds of grilled meals, lobster suppers, bushels of steamed clams, mountains of corn on the cob. Summer suppers were almost always enjoyed there, and we'd sit until after dusk, watching the deer melt from the woods into the meadow. One summer we witnessed a barred owl hunt from her vantage point on an electrical wire almost every evening. Bats would dip and dance above us in the evening sky, while we lingered at our comfortable table. We grabbed hurried lunches there on busy yard-work days, snatched moments of rest and quiet a thousand times. That table was used as a workbench for many a repair project, a dance floor for baby goats, a perch for dogs who liked to lounge on its surface in the sun and survey their domain. 

But nothing good lasts forever, and the table began to show its age. The wood rotted and splintered, and it was no longer safe for us to enjoy. Today we drove to Ellsworth to look for a replacement. 

A huge array of Amish-made furniture, all from white cedar, stretched across a large lot. I had my heart set on an octagonal table because I thought it would be conducive to excellent conversations. I zeroed in on the section where they were and plunked myself down on a sturdy bench. To my endless disappointment, it didn't feel comfortable. We wandered down the row to the regular tables, and I chose an 8 foot one and sat down. I felt like I was in the story of Goldilocks and the Three bears. This felt just right. The distance between the benches and the tabletops was different on each model. It was greater on the octagonal tables, making it not so comfortable for someone my height. Chris found the office and paid the people, and moments later our heavy, sturdy new table was in the bed of my truck. 

Now it sits proudly in the center of our yard. We enjoyed a glass of wine there this evening, smoothing our hands over the fresh-cut wood, inhaling its spicy aroma. A gifted pot of pansies is the perfect decoration. We are setting goals. There will be sharing and laughter and joy at this table, just as there was at the old one. There are memories to be made, and they will happen here.