Another dark, windy day awaits. June brings storms and today is not very different from others. A pot is set to boil on the stove, the blue fire dancing in the wind. The open window shakes as another gust of wind hits. A chill sets in, not even sitting in front of the open stove can break it. As the food cooks, the oil crackles and the water boils. It’s a homely melody. Smoke curls up in the air, gets flung to the other side of the room, riding the constant wind. The smell ru
The shutters are all down, only a sliver of sun lights up the room. You watch the dust particles dance in and out of the light. It’s quiet outside, the early morning doesn’t pull many people out. Not yet. In about an hour, the streets will start to bustle with people. People going to work, going to school, going places. But for now, the only thing is to enjoy the peace only early mornings can bring. Okay, the title of this post is strong, but it sums up my feelings about this
The wind rages outside as the windows shake and a slight breeze curls around your arms. There’s going to be another storm, a tradeoff for the good weather of the past week. You try to find a thicker coat, most of them are pushed deep into your closet from not being reached for. The rain starts to splatter on the windows, at first a drizzle, but then raging with the wind. Your boots have been kicked under the sofa too. You fish them out, hoping they’ll hold in this rain. A the
about a fleeting ripple
This is a place to share what I have been writing or thinking about lately, which is mostly about fountain pens and books.