At the edge of twilight on a cool evening I walk out to see the fading of last light. Faintly the luminescence is scattered between leaves turning brown and orange and golden. Carried on the lightest of a cool breeze there is a hint of something cooking on a grill somewhere out there in the last remains of this day. Tantalizing the odor wafts by.
Lights are on in most of the houses including my own. My jacket is lightly lined with fleece and it feels good. On my ipod John Hiatt is singing a song about discovering that you have become your parent without being aware of it. Fall is coming to me and it is a metaphor for both my age and the ending of a period of quiet. The things of my children’s school year life will be rushing by very, very soon.
4 comments:
Food, again, creeps into your writing like the orange yellow tint of saffron as it infuses into a brown breast-like mound of steaming basmati rice.
hehehe
Susan you used the word breast in a paragraph. This means only one thing. John (of John and Vicki) is now your friend for life.
She didn't just use the word "breast", she also said "steaming" I think that makes her a friend for life of all the guys who follow your blog.
It's nice to have friends for life. Steaming, breasts, or not.
Jay is obviously a not-so-secret foodie.
Not that there's anything wrong with basmati rice.
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