The birds are sleeping in this morning. It’s twenty past five and outside is silent, save for the gurgling of the creek.

Sometimes, that’s how life is, haphazard and untamed, a cowlick that won’t be slicked. There’s work and travel, then travel again, and spring’s come and weeds have, too

Mostly, it seemed complicated. Daunting. Tedious. Many steps required, in a certain order, over several days. Specific tools, too, must be used. And the terminology? There was a whole new language to be learned. 

“Do you like blue cheese?” Becca, the cheesemonger asked as I stood at the cheese counter

I’ve just pulled this veggie quiche from the oven and it’s now cooling on the table.

A rogue burst of cold in early September. We say we don’t expect it, but we know that’s not true.

It’s a quiet morning here, the day after Thanksgiving. I’ve lit a candle, as I always do, and have tucked onto the sofa to savor my first cup of tea as daylight slowly comes.

A pause at the center of the day, set the work aside, let the hungry lead to the kitchen.