Traveling Raconteur

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Loving You Jules Verne


I understand if you are a little surprised with the name I picked for you. It comes from something Mary Oliver said while publicly reading one of her poems. She mentions a friend who liked to name everything in their house after titles of great classics “and we have countless Silas Marner cups and saucers at our house” struck me as magical. I held you for a long minute, feeling the spaces between your subtle rims on the skin of my fingers when your name flew to my mind and perched there – Jules Verne. I wonder if there could be a more perfect name for you. I have always loved that author. He took me on magical trips around the world, to places I only heard the names of and on seas I dream of sailing someday. Also you feel like a trophy in my hands! Some consolation to the fact that I may never hold the real ‘Jules Verne Trophy.’

I spotted you smeared in dust in an old crockery shop, standing majestically over little cups and bits of ceramic surrounding you. That crockery shop was my last stop before deciding to give up my ‘perfect teapot’ hunting mission for at least a month. I had seen many pretty, cute, beautiful, slender, sweet, artistic teapots over many days at many crystal, ceramic and glass shops but none of them ‘felt’ right in my hands. I didn’t have to wait to touch you before I knew you were coming home with me to be my company on early mornings and late nights when I do special things, when I ‘create’ something for which you will offer me the warmth of the tea inside you and the beauty of your presence.

I love holding you Jules. You’re strong like a handsome German hero. I love holding you with both my palms and feel you envelope them with warmth. I love pouring delicious tea into you and pour it out into a cup. I love the sound you make while the tea runs out of you, sweet as a flowing brook. It’s a strangely fulfilling pleasure to pour tea out of your delicately carved spout. I love your spout that has a tiny bridge on it, so much like my nose! You shine bright in all white with gold rims on your edges that highlight your strong personality. The white glaze of your body brings me peace as I watch you while struggling for words or getting lost in imagination or recollecting memories.

You are my closest friend offering me your strength on days I feel low and miserable and your joy at times when I am happy and wanting to create. You are my creation companion. I create the most soulful of my letters, emails, postcards, art only when you are standing on my writing desk, holding my favourite beverage in you. You seem to say to me “Go on, write, I am here watching you and I admire the beauty of your creation. I love watching your pen move through the flicker of the candlelight and love the sound of your fingers typing on the keys of your computer.” I hear you and I write on.

You show me the meaning of being silent yet delightful, strong yet so gentle and smooth, plain and so beautiful. You are my truest friend, offering me all the love and support I need when I am doing things that fill my heart with joy.

You are the Jules Verne that moves my pen, inspires dreams on silent nights, takes me on long, imagined journeys as I write, gives me the sound of distant waters flowing and the touch of gentleness.

Cor ad cor loquitor on a mooney night,



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This entry was posted on January 20, 2011 by in Love-Letters and tagged .

Fighting An Additction

Not One MoreSeptember 12th, 2014
Addiction is a curse one allows upon one's self until it ceases to seek permission. I do not like the idea of a mind controlled by substance. If I can refrain for 30 days, I'd be very impressed with myself.

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