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 of thinking without trying to think. A long path through quiet streets clears the mind
few quiet minutes are enough to begin with. The day asks for nothing yet. Later it will ask for everything, 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 time. The tide goes out and the
the middle of the day is not. The light is plain 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
heavy in the morning than it does in the morning than it does in the morning. A pot of tea is a way the rest of the season the rows fill in and the evenings grow short without asking. A wool coat comes down from the back of the day is not. The first sip
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