Murgatroid the Cat and I slip from the bed, careful not to wake Cheyenne. It is dark, still, and even the birds are silent, though dawn can’t be long in coming. Murg pads silently through the open door to the screened porch. I follow, wrapping my sweatshirt-soft kimono tightly to keep in the bed-warmth. The […]
In silence, hearing only the sound of each other’s breath and our own heartbeats, we experience our selves together yet separate.
At table, we don’t say much the first few minutes. I suspect the others are as hungry as I. We nearly disgrace ourselves slurping and gorging.
Just as gardeners garden (that’s me), weavers weave, and builders build in Ordinary, anyone who loves to plan, cook, and assemble meals can choose more time in the kitchen.
Ralph’s eyes are soft, his smile gentle, reflecting my own. Making my way through the herb garden to the kitchen, I stop to pluck a bit of lemon thyme and crush it against my nose.