Perhaps there's a roaring fire in the hearth, smelling of scorched oak and old stone; wood beams of golden hardwoods and great windows that look out over the vineyards and the sprawling stands of blue spruce beyond. The sons and daughters of the King stride across the ancient floor as they make their way to the Table, expecting good conversation, laughter, and refreshment. Wines and cheeses. Fruit from the orchards. Perhaps a roasted stag the archers killed in the King's wood that afternoon - seasoned with coriander, onion and wild black walnut.
How does conversation go around the King's dinner table? Doesn't he say, "Tell me, what did you do today?" I can imagine one of the sons declaring that he took one of the horses - the dapple grey mare - from the paddock and enjoyed a gallop in the East Wood that morning.
Perhaps one of the King's daughters says she took her artist easel over to the meadow where lupine, baby's breath, and wild rose grow. Another son eagerly points to the high ridge beyond the meadow, saying that he approached the ridge from Fir Grove, climbing past the falls and beyond timberline to see the view over the ridge that the old ones said was breathless.
A grandmother runs through the King's vineyards like a giddy school girl, running with an energy she only knew in her youth.
A pair of old friends share conversation with unfettered transparency, finally enjoying all the matters to their hearts. There is nothing like good talk that comes from healed places.
And the King asks us, "Where did my Kingdom take you today?"