I took this photo in our three-season porch.
In it are three little girls, a purple stuffed animal, and a fourth guest you cannot see.
The little girls are gathered around a tiny tea table, complete with porcelain cups and little porcelain spoons for stirring imaginary tea.
For reasons that are surprising in 2026, they know exactly how to hold those delicate cups. And perhaps even more amazing—I don’t know where they learned it—they know to lift their pinkies just so, as they sit in their imaginary finery.
I said there were four little girls.
The fourth is represented by the hat resting on the empty chair.
Her name is Ruth Jefferis.
When she was a grandmother fifty years ago, she wore that same pillbox hat, with its flowers and feathers, to church on Sundays and to special occasions.
She would have been delighted to attend this little tea party with her great-great-grandchildren, so we decided to invite her.
The empty chair reminds us that the people we love never entirely leave us. They remain in our stories, our memories, our traditions, and sometimes at a tea party on a summer afternoon.
Here’s to the memories of our grandparents, to the joys of children, grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren we may never meet but love just the same.
And above all, here’s to the joy of an endless summer.
