September 12, 2012



The tablecloth hovered a bit before resting. She smoothed the wrinkles and creases with a delicate hand while walking it's perimeter. It looked evenly draped and without stains.

A pot on the stove held a fine tomato sauce. Slowly reducing, the low flame bullied now and then by a breeze. She stirred with a worn wooden spoon. Clockwise and counter until the bubbles disappeared.

After resting the heavy lid, she closed the flame and turned her attention to the bowl of fruit. Filled with disappointing late summer peaches and sour kiwi. She hoped that the plums would be amenable.

The quiet was considered and then interrupted by a faraway train. She was grateful for the layers of sound. Hums and crickets, the unlocking of doors and, her own breathing.


  1. We had a tablecloth at the cottage, but it wasn't really my style. I'd like a cotton or linen cloth, similar to yours above. There's something romantic about it. And I've always liked worn wooden spoons.

    1. We have too many tablecloths and not enough worn wooden spoons.

  2. I have some disappointing peaches in the fridge! I know in the fridge, cold and thus even more tasteless. I really should poach them with far too much sugar and a good glug of wine.
    Layers of sound I like that.
    Have you sharpened your pencils yet? Not long now x

    1. I really didn't think it was possible to have a disappointing peach in Italy. Yes, poach them. I should have thought of that, too.
      I need to find my pencil sharpener!


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