A Hummingbird, Blueberry Muffins and Button Boxes…

The chug of coffee brewing as a hummingbird buzzed outside my kitchen window early yesterday morning. Hanging pots of deep purple petunias. The perfect nectar. A tiny and delicate illustration of joy and freedom…

Fresh blueberries glistened in a colander. Drying in my white porcelain kitchen sink. A favorite muffin recipe stained and yellowed rested on the soft gray granite counter. My thoughts wandered while I combined the basic ingredients. A welcomed warmth filled the small kitchen as the stove heated to temperature. Vermont mornings still maintain a delicious coolness in May. I mentally searched for sweetness beyond the sprinkled sugar atop the muffin batter. I recalled a recent visit with my twenty-month-old granddaughter at her home in Massachusetts. Tried and true sweetness. Simple. Pure…

Belle and I spent a fair amount of time reading books in her room. We read one “favorite book” after the next while sitting in a plush rocking chair. Some repeatedly. Eric Carle, Taro Gami and Dorothy Kunhardt were in the rotation. Pat the Bunny was plucked off the neighboring table by small and precious hands. The cover had been removed. The white plastic spiral binding slightly unraveled. The top two rectangular notches empty. Reminiscent of the copy I had once read to her mother and uncle thirty plus years ago. Countless times. A predictable fate for this popular book once in the interactive hands of a toddler. An “experiment” written by Dorothy Kunhardt for her then three-year-old daughter Edith was published in 1940. Daddy’s scratchy face. Soft bunny fur. Smelling flowers. Looking in a mirror. Paul and Judy…

As we read each page in great interaction anticipation I paused after I heard my voice read aloud “Judy can shake mummy’s button box” Button box? The narrative generationally rooted. Flushed in the warmth of antiquity I immediately recalled my own mother’s button box. A George W. Horner & Co. tin. The vintage floral printed tin circa 1914 currently sits on my writing desk in my studio. Once vibrant reds, blues, greens, and golds have gently softened over the years. The ornamental tin is filled with items last touched by my mother. A lifetime ago. Buttons, sewing machine bobbins, hooks and eyes, snaps, and neutral-colored threads filled the container. The sundry sewing items were as familiar as the once seamstress. Timeless. Classic…

As I sat with my beautiful young granddaughter I wondered if she would ever know what a “button box” was but before I could put too much energy into that thought we were on to rereading Pat the Bunny. Again and yet again…

“Here are Paul and Judy. They can do lots of things. You can do lots of things, too.” Dorothy Kunhardt