Somebody is cooking chicken on the grill and a light easterly wind is bringing the scent of that home cooking to me. Cooked and crisp I bet, I can imagine that bird’s breast dripping fat onto the coals and cooking up quite nicely. White meat suspended above hot coals and mesquite chips. End of summer food.
I bet they hit the farmer’s market today and picked up some fresh croissants and corn too. Maybe some green beans to fill out the feast. Now if it were me, and it is not, I would have found a source for some oysters to open the meal. A half dozen Maine oysters with a little bit of horse radish would put me in the right frame of mind at this moment.
Day is coming to an end much earlier now. The sky at night has been clearer. The hot humid haze of summer has been stripped away and the miles and light years of infinity are laid open much earlier that in days just recently passed. The chicken scent wafted by again and I felt the hunger come on again.
(You have to excuse me if my train of thought gets kind of lost here. The chicken scent overwhelmed me and I had to go get some coals going for burgers. As with all tasks it required more than originally anticipated, I.e. cleaning out the grill and preparing the coals.)
The soundtrack for this end of day reverie is a stream of the Cowboy Junkies, Mae Moore and Mazzy Star. Right now Ms. Star’s cover of Wild Horses is playing. I can remember an early October weekend riding up along the Lake Superior coast and having a cassette player in the car blast having the original Rolling Stones version just blaring. What a sunny day that was and how few people there were to bother my enjoyment of the sunny moments.
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