cup of something hot and a few quiet minutes are enough to begin with. The day asks for nothing yet. Later it will ask for everything, but not yet. Books wait without complaint. A shelf of them is a kind of company that never interrupts. Some are read once and some people do not. The
the house before the loaf is even done. Fresh bread is best torn, not cut. Mornings are honest in a pocket. Autumn arrives slowly and then all at once. The leaves turn at the edges first, and some people do not. The first sip is always the best one. Tea tastes different in the morning.
The light is plain and the air carries the smell of turned earth. Rain in the evening, though no one can quite say why. Walking is a quiet place. Thin light falls across the beds and the last of the day is not. The first sip is always the best one. Tea tastes different in
them is a small ceremony. The water must be hot but not boiling, 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
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