The Lavender Tea Party

In Kirkwood Park, the lavender in the community garden was in full bloom, and Ella and Mabel had spent the morning gathering it, humming as they worked.

The sun was warm. The bees, nearly full and a little drowsy, bobbed between blossoms. The overgrown lavender bushes brushed softly against the two young ladies’ arms, leaving a trace of summer on their skin and fur.

Ella had grown quiet.

Mabel, ever perceptive, looked up from the lavender she was gathering and said brightly, “Is there anything more delightful than the smell of lavender warming in the sunshine?”

Ella smiled at the thought. “I was just thinking about school,” she said softly. “It starts next week. I’m going to miss days like this—with you, in the Park.”

Mabel’s ears twitched with purpose. “Then we must mark the moment properly. A celebration!” she said, “For the lavender harvest, for the final golden days of summer -- and for your brave step into something new.”

Ella peeked at her from behind a rosebush. “A celebration? For me?”

Mabel climbed onto a sun-warmed stone and made her announcement with great ceremony.

“We shall have a tea party. A Lavender Tea Party. A proper one—with real linen napkins and the pretty porcelain. Of course I’ll bake a cake with lavender icing. There will be tea in the teapot and fresh lemonade, steeped with lavender petals and poured over ice.”

Ella laughed in delight. “Oh, let’s invite Ernestine!” she said. “She loves lavender more than anyone I know.”

Mabel agreed at once. The shy bunny was always a gracious guest. Mabel also reminded Ella not to forget the bees and butterflies—they, too, loved lavender and deserved to be included in the end-of-summer celebration.

And just like that, it was decided.

The rest of the afternoon was spent conspiring in low voices, planning the most splendid lavender tea party Kirkwood Park had ever seen.

The very next morning, the three friends began their preparations in earnest.

Mabel rose early, tied her apron in the front (for luck, of course), opened the shutters to let in the morning sun, and took a deep breath. The air smelled like warmth and possibility.

She began with the scones. Lavender and honey, brushed with clotted cream and sprinkled with sugar.

Then came the shortbread teapot cookies, each one stamped with a tiny heart in the center.

The lavender-lemon drizzle cake took more time, but Mabel didn’t mind. She liked the part where she poked the warm top with a toothpick and watched the glaze soak in, sweet and slow.

She sang to herself as she worked, pausing often to taste (sometimes twice, just to be certain). Whisking, humming, Mabel ignored the flour on her whiskers but carefully curled her tail behind her so it wouldn’t become sticky.

Mabel stepped back to examine her day’s work. Maybe the cake was a little crooked, but she had infused it with love. Maybe the cookies were not quite the same size, but each one joyful. Mabel smiled. Everything was ready.

Not perfect. Just ready.

Meanwhile, Ernestine sat at her sewing table near the window, stitching the last edge of the tablecloth in the same way as she generally moved through life: quietly, but with purpose. This was how Ernestine loved – without audience, without fanfare. She stitched her affections into hems and folded them into linen napkins. She arranged blessings into flower bouquets, knowing their beauty would uplift those who sat nearby. The work was small, almost invisible. But it was Love all the same.

The next morning, back in the Park’s flower garden, Ella set to work arranging the tea table. With grace and an eye for discernment, Ella carefully spread Ernestine’s beautiful linen tablecloth, running her fingers over the hand-embroidered lavender stems, sensing the love carefully placed within each stitch. Leaving plenty of room in the center for Mabel’s delicious cakes and pastries still to come, she laid out the porcelain place settings.

Next, she carefully folded a napkin into a pocket. She’d watched Ernestine do it once and practiced with scraps of paper until her fingers remembered. Tucking a sprig of lavender inside the napkin, she proudly added the tiny work of art beside one of the plates on the table. Ella believed that adding beauty to ordinary things, even something as simple as tying a pretty ribbon around a spoon, was a way to say, “Dearest friends, you deserve beauty and care in your life. I made this lovely thing with you in mind. I’m so glad you are my friends.”

Her final task was to rub the crystal pitcher with a soft cloth until the sunbeams gleamed through it, casting rainbows all around the tabletop. Her heart leapt with quiet joy at the sight.

As the sun climbed to its highest point in the clear blue sky, the party began.

The table stood in the center of the garden, nestled under swaying branches. Ernestine’s linens fluttered in the breeze, anchored by her beautiful bouquets of flowers. The silver gleamed in the sunshine. It was a lovely display.

And the food—

Oh, the food!

Mabel’s lemon-lavender cake, slightly lopsided, was beautifully adorned with sugared violets and lemon drizzle. The teapot-shaped cookies rested beside purple macarons. Petals floated in the lemonade, just as Mabel had promised, and lavender sugar cubes sparkled in a glass bowl, waiting to be spooned into the dainty teacups.

At first, a stillness settled over the table, as the three close friends fell into a hush of appreciation. Everything was so beautiful, and made with such care and kindness, it took their breath away.

But soon, the party became loud in the very best way: spoons clinking, laughter pealing, a squeak here, a shriek there. There were no speeches, but there were many stories.

How the bees always seemed so busy.

How Mabel once tried to ride a duck (she had not succeeded).

How good it feels to make something meaningful with your own two paws.

As they sipped and nibbled and chatted, the sun gradually moved westward. And somewhere between a second slice of cake and a refill of lemonade, Ella’s worries about the future quietly drifted away. There was only warm sunshine, laughter, and the friends she loved most.

I want you to know how much I appreciate you taking time to visit me in Kirkwood Park today — may your lavender always bloom and your days be filled with warm sunshine, laughter, and friends you love the most. 💕

Lisa Marks
Author and Illustrator
Kirkwood Park

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