Wrinkled heads of new cabbage chopped into cabbage salad with celery salt and carrots in nickels and dimes.
Cold mornings at the farmers market when the egg lady slips a dozen eggs into my canvas bag. "I feel like a drug dealer," she whispers. "Don't let anyone see them. "
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The San Anselmo community garden watching flocks of reggae sounding wild birds eat the remaining high hanging persimmons.
Learning that brown sugar is a mixture of molasses and regular sugar and that I can make my own.
Receiving a homemade t-shirt with Chicken Plucker quilted across it.
It's already a good year.
What, no whiskers on kittens, no brown paper packages tied up with string?
ReplyDeleteI'll be carrying around those feathered persimmon-eating musicians in my head all day. Thanks!
A few of my favorite things...
ReplyDeletereading Katrina's blog,
savoring the accompanying photos,
eating up the haikus....
a good year, indeed!
Risa - Yes, there was a brown paper package tied up with string and a friend who sang me the song. The thanks go to you for that.
ReplyDeleteTamara - And a good appetite to all. xoxo