In addition to my poetry and short stories, I have been in the process of writing a series of books over the course of five years. They center around a woman named Anemone. She lives in a large house called Grassington Hill House on a dark moor in England (a recurring theme in much of my writing). In the first book, the reader is taken on a tour of the works of art in her house, most of which concern food and flowers. In the second book, the reader is invited to stay in the house with the narrator of the book and Anemone's cat, while she goes to the places where coffee, tea and other things are grown which would be used in a tearoom. In the third book, the tearoom has become a reality and the reader is invited back once again to the house. This book has recipes from dishes which were mentioned in Books One and Two. In book Four, the reader is invited to explore a maze located on the grounds of the house. Within this maze, spirituality is explored, but not in a conventional sense.

Following is an excerpt from Book Two. . .

Good evening.
The storm is fierce tonight.
The wild wind and driving rain are whipping the dark moor.
Please follow me by candlelight to the kitchen
and join me for hot chocolate and cookies.

This is Anemone's kitchen.

It is modeled after one in a Paris pied-de-terre,
and it is decorated entirely in warm cream and cool green.
Please be seated in a comfortable overstuffed chair
at the small cafe table.
Draw your warm robe closer about you
and we will watch the lightning flash in the dark through the window.
Allow me to fill your cup with hot cocoa
from the silver samovar and top it with a dollop of cream.
Please help yourself to cookies:
small buttery triangles of Scottish shortbread
(very much the flavor of the open moor);
tiny cookies flavored with the bright essence of orange
(a flavor from the exact opposite climate of sun and citrus)
adorable cookies marbled with chocolate and vanilla.

While we enjoy our cozy snack,
safe from the fury of the lowering sky,
I will read Anemone's most recent correspondence to us,
coincidentally enough,
pertaining to chocolate:

my dear ones,
this night
I languidly ate luscious buttersweet chocolates,
the forbidden flavor of love & kisses,
at the sacred darkening glow of twilight
I touched pods of uncommon colors
magenta & mango
green & gold
vermillion & violet
cuddled in tiny white blossoms & wild dark secret green
sleep as I do
in fragrant contentment. . .


All writing contained in this website 1998-2005 by Betty A. Parker