Sunday, October 12, 2008
Hello? Still there?
While I was gone October came, and with it very chilly nights, apples and pumpkins from a nearby farm, apple butter, spiced cider, scarves, and mittens. The radiators in our apartment are on, their heat balanced by the crisp air creeping through slightly open windows. The are tiny gourds on the table and little pumpkins at their side, deep orange lilies in vases, and cheerful yellow daisies holding strong. There are leeks on the counter waiting to be paired with goat cheese and egg in a tidy crust, small remainders of cheddar in the fridge for nibbling, and a loaf of local farmer's bread tucked neatly in its brown paper bag. On the table, a large green bowl full of clementines is basking in unexpected autumn light, and the remainder of morning coffee rests warmly in its carafe. Stacks of library books are humming their stories and due date requests from the chair; a thrifted pie plate and two mugs sit nearby listening, hoping to chime in the song with lyrics of being washed and put away. Scattered through the rooms are little bits of mail, postage rescued from envelopes for memory's sake, letters tearing at the folds from love and wear, contents of packages grouped in clusters like Christmas remnants. There's a recipe for my grandmother's pie crust scribbled on paper near the fridge, and a basket of apples chilling in the mudroom screaming out pie! pie! pie! I really must obey.