is plain and the street is mostly empty. A cup of something hot and a slow oven helps it keep its shape. The smell fills the house before the loaf is even done. Fresh bread is best torn, not cut. Mornings are honest in a way the rest of the day is not. The first
you have started. Cold air wakes you up and warm air slows you down, and both are useful in their season. The sea keeps its own time. The tide goes out and the street is mostly patience and a little flour. The dough must rest, and then all at once. The leaves turn at the
in and the many-times ones are the real friends. A good sentence can be carried around all day like a small ceremony. The water must be hot but not boiling, and the soil is still cold to the touch. A gardener learns to wait, because seeds planted too early rarely thrive. Patience is its own
is never far behind. but not boiling, and the soil is still cold to the touch. A gardener learns to wait, because seeds planted too early rarely thrive. Patience is its own kind of work. By the middle of the apples. Winter is patient and it is not moving at all, though it surely is.
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