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Winter’s Splendor

winter's splendor

Snowflakes float gently through the air, covering the ground and trees in winter’s splendor.  I do not know the names of these white trees – I am not of this land.  I know sidewalks, tall buildings, automobiles, soot, suits, and wintry faces.  But I do not know winter.  Its frigid breath competes with the warmth of the humble fireplace.  I know that if the fire should go out, the splendor of winter will become as inviting as the grave.  Still, I am safe behind these wooden walls, and so I watch winter in peace from the warm side of my window.

 

Original photo by Gratisography

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Breakfast for Charlie

Eggs, swiss cheese, mushrooms, and spinach.  It was one of the few things we actually agreed on, and I figured it wouldn’t be the worst way to start the day.  As the scent of melting swiss filled the small studio apartment we shared, I realized there was something missing.  Onions.  I tiptoed over to the refrigerator and opened it as quietly as I could.  I had done a good job sneaking around so far.  I had even cracked the eggs inside a kitchen towel earlier.  Sometimes you just want to do everything right.  Or at least close.  The kitchen towel now laid in the hamper, covered with egg yolk.  And now that I had the refrigerator open, I realized there weren’t any onions in the vegetable drawer.  I found a half-eaten bag of fried onion chips tucked away behind a jar of pickles, but I thought that would be a bit too tacky for an omelet.  Well, too tacky for her.  I’d try it.  I’d try anything.  Continue reading “Breakfast for Charlie”

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Tea Time with Mrs. Lewis

Tea Time with Mrs Lewis

There was a silent strength in the way she poured her evening tea.  Her hands moved with a grace that betrayed her age.  Her soft smile should have accentuated the folds in her cheeks, but somehow the lines in her face all but disappeared.  Her silver hair turned jet black, the weathered wrought iron table turned ivory white, and the sun shone on rolling fields of green grass and blooming flowers.  The cool autumn morning faded like a memory.  It was spring.  It was tea time.  A moment forever locked in time for Mrs. Amanda Lewis and anyone who sat with her at the little white table adorned with two chairs.  The humble dining set filled the entirety of the small patio outside the back door of her blue wooden house.  Most people didn’t know how it happened – how the years melted away or how spring burst forth from any season during tea time with Mrs. Lewis.  But she told me once, when I was young. Continue reading “Tea Time with Mrs. Lewis”