The Mint Patch Monologue

Contributions Dedicated to

Preserving the Timeless Writing

of Gladys Bagg Taber for

Future Generations

The Mint Patch Monologue is meant to welcome any reader to enter a quiet space, to celebrate life’s simple pleasures, and to find encouragement. Inspired by the late Gladys Bagg Taber (1899-1980) my writing is dedicated to preserving her legacy. She was the author of 59 books, including the Stillmeadow books, and columnist for Ladies’ Home Journal and Family Circle. Her warm and friendly spirit lives on in her every page, this blog is a bridge to that comfort, may we all still experience it. I choose to follow her lead in life- to regard community and neighborliness, to have an earnest relationship with the natural world, to remain full-hearted in the face of grief, to give any curious recipe the chance for success but the acceptance of defeat, and to sit under the stars at the end of a long summer day with a grateful sincerity.

  • A Letter to the Great Pumpkin…

    Dear GreatPumpkin,
    I believe you are real, I can feel your presence every year, I can sense when the portal for your arrival is open. It’s when the spider webs stretch across thresholds, when the breeze starts to bite, and the shadows grow long. Because of you, our worlds shroud with mystery and magic, we get to bundle up for the first time, and run a muck after dark. We get to break rules, stay up late, tell ghost stories and get foundered on sugar. All of us share the amusement and delight of Halloween Night. There is no goblin too young, no ghoul too old to relish in your enchantment. You bring with you innovation that has no bounds; you make witchcraft and wizardry real. It’s all just a bunch of Hocus Pocus, and for goodness’ sake, that is what we need! Your inspiration seduces us to become creative beasts, tempts us for thrill and devilry. Our memories become resurrected from decades gone, our favorite characters come out to play. When you arrive, our souls become haunted with the forgotten bliss of mischief, and indulgence; fright and laughter intertwine and bring us joy, just when we need it the most. You give us the gift of disguise.

    Sometimes the real nightmare is having to be ourselves in a lonely world, but once a year we invite as many visitors that will come, and the dark night becomes a bright one.

    As little ones take off into the night, the neighborhood keeps a vigilant eye on their missions for madness, and candy. Theatrics flood the streets, there are front porch performances, illusions, and despite all the treats, the tricks are ever present too. Oh, Great Pumpkin, please bring me a black flame candle so I can bring the wide eyes of my inner child back from the dead, I will howl at the moon, just for you. In anticipation of your visit I have hot glued feathers to my sleeves, drawn round, black eyes on white sheets, mourned Frankenstein’s mortal monster, carved life into the biggest pumpkin I could find, and filled the popcorn bowl with Clark Bars.

    Dearest Pumpkin, please back come every year so that we can forever rejoice in imagination. May we all be entranced with artistry, and wit, with curiosity, and celebrate the faculty of transformation; the chance to become as powerful as Count Dracula, if not only but for one glorious night a year. Thank you, All Mighty and Great Pumpkin for granting all of our spirits a chance to shine, to pretend, and to believe.

    PS. Please bring my friend Linus something special, so that he too can keep the faith, and unfurl his joy unto the non-believers.

    Thank you for reading! As always, please reach out because I DO love to chat!!

    readnwrite11@gmail.com

  • Let’s have a Tea…

    Constant comment or hibiscus? I go between the two, or ginger when I need real warmth. If it’s after 9 o’clock, I go for chamomile. But having a tea is less about the tea, the point is transition. The time for tea is something felt, it beckons us, it keeps our place throughout the day like a bookmark. When we’ve finished the morning rituals, when the mind begins to wander, and just as the birds reach their midday slump, so do we. If you’re enjoying your read then pause, make yourself a cup of tea, and come back to the words, lets make this meeting official.

    My kitchen has a little room off to the side, too small to be called a dining room, but it’s where our vintage Hoosier Cabinet holds all of the Pyrex mixing bowls, and where we sit for meals. Our dinner table is perfect for 2 but unfolds for the occasional guests. Have a seat in my wooden fold-able funeral chair, it is a prized thrift find! Tell me how you’ve been doing, lets commence this perfect pause  together.

     Until you’re still, you’ll never hear the thoughts that count, the ones that remind you of how the sun looked streaming into your bedroom window that morning; you forget to wonder how someone might be doing, the ones you haven’t heard from in a while. To sit with a tea, to fiddle with linens on the table, to sip carefully, is a chance for your soul to speak up. Sometimes mine says to me, “go smell that rose bush before the frost gets ahold of it.” A to-do list that includes “smell the rose bush” is a happy list, not all tasks are daunting. A side quest could unfold, you might find yourself cutting a  backyard bouquet of zinnias for the neighbor, and then remembering someone’s birthday is just around the corner, you wind up immersed in one of those spiral church cookbooks reading cupcake recipes.  Time for a refill.

     Busy hands that need a rest can be satisfied as you smooth your fingers over the ceramic glaze, feeling for bumps of imperfection, evidence of something handmade, human-made. I think you can get to know certain mugs just like you come to know certain people. At first you are familiar with them, and then you learn that on your weakest days you can depend on their loyalty. Just like a steadfast friend, one you know where to always find.  And so really, to the non-tea drinkers, you’re not missing out on the tea, you’re missing out on the moment, the ritual that lends an ease to the occasional discomfort of existence. In my earlier years, the tea was a smoke on the back porch. Yes, tale as old as time, just a girl, sneaking a cigarette. What can I say but “sometimes we grow, we trade in old habits, we try to do better.” Aren’t our minds just begging for a break, a chance to have ideas? Most often we have simple realizations if given a chance to be curious, but when the moon is full and high we can experience wide revelations, be struck with genius, or know exactly what we need to say to that certain someone.  Take a few minutes to ponder a question you didn’t know you had, run it by a friend, and see where they take the thought, find out you are just alike or so different that you learn something.

    Give your mind the wings it deserves, tea doesn’t last forever and soon after you can go back to refreshing your feeds. At the bottom of the cup we find contentment, and life goes on. We have solved the world’s problems, given our souls a voice,  and  forged connection. Until our next cup of tea please take care of yourself.

    Thank you for reading, and as always.. drop me a line sometime,

    I DO love to chat!

    readnwrite11@gmail.com

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