My aunt Kit for whom I am nick-named gave me a set of pencils with my name engraved. This gift is now 60 years in memory. This is why I write.
A few years back, friend Susan gave me a set of pencils wrapped in paper imprinted with pomegrantes. This is the conversation I continue to blog. This is why the two of us enjoy a martini.
Today I will enjoy my 4th persimmon in two days as I contemplate peeling the small but mightly pomegranate in the fruit bowl.
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Friday, September 26, 2014
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
What is the correspondence between blogging and this much rain?
Water-saturated San Francisco is visibly greening. Slant of rain on window -- eyebrows, diacritical marks. Each room feels like a library. A consequence of rain is fragrance.
Make soup, of course. Rough-cut vegetables. Plenty of garlic. Fistfuls of spinach added just before serving. Bowlfuls. Crusty bread. Company. Conversation not about weather. Perhaps, poetry. Yes, poetry.
Make soup, of course. Rough-cut vegetables. Plenty of garlic. Fistfuls of spinach added just before serving. Bowlfuls. Crusty bread. Company. Conversation not about weather. Perhaps, poetry. Yes, poetry.
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