After staying late at work, Katherine and I rode home. We probably looked biker savvy with our shiny mounts and in our tight black shorts and neon jackets...until we got
on the bikes, that is. Actually, the slightly uphill ride home was invigorating and I only stopped twice; once to fix my backpack, then again to put my chain on because it popped off as I peddled
firmly to catch up with Katherine. During our ride through the woods, I noticed the ferns, almost a neon green, shooting out of the ground. Every gulp of air tasted sweetly of white blossoms that covered the trees gathering along the trail. Unfortunately, people crowded the path. Despite the clear and piercing bell attached to my handlebars, I was forced to concentrate on remaining on my bike and off the walkers when I would have rather stopped to smell the flowers. Several close calls and daunting hills later, we reached home and dinner.
My jelly legs were quite unstable as I carried my bowl of Aunt Lyn's Butternut Squash Soup to the table. However, the hazardous walk from the stove to the table was worth every spoonful of that warm, thick, golden liquid (Lyn just told me the soup is called "Golden Winter." Lovely.). By the time I
devoured my soup finished dinner, I had regained control of my leg muscles and relocated to the tweed couch under the windows of the living room. This is where I currently sit. I love how the sunlight comes through the trees at this time of night (around 8:30). Tonight, behind Crazy Marilyn's pale-washed home, a soft, pink, knit tunic gently swings in and out of the light. How is it that simple things like this bring such delight and contentment?
After staying late at work, Katherine and I rode home. We probably looked biker savvy with our shiny mounts and in our tight black shorts and neon jackets...until we got on the bikes, that is. Actually, the slightly uphill ride home was invigorating and I only stopped twice; once to fix my backpack, then again to put my chain on because it popped off as I peddled firmly to catch up with Katherine. During our ride through the woods, I noticed the ferns, almost a neon green, shooting out of the ground. Every gulp of air tasted sweetly of white blossoms that covered the trees gathering along the trail. Unfortunately, people crowded the path. Despite the clear and piercing bell attached to my handlebars, I was forced to concentrate on remaining on my bike and off the walkers when I would have rather stopped to smell the flowers. Several close calls and daunting hills later, we reached home and dinner.
My jelly legs were quite unstable as I carried my bowl of Aunt Lyn's Butternut Squash Soup to the table. However, the hazardous walk from the stove to the table was worth every spoonful of that warm, thick, golden liquid (Lyn just told me the soup is called "Golden Winter." Lovely.). By the time I 
Oh Emmie, it sounds wonderful! i am so glad that you get a chance to experience this. Though we miss you here in Texas terribly, we know you are having a wonderful time. See you when you get home! Love the blogs. Love Aunt Tonna
ReplyDeleteRemember the time I made butternut squash soup for Thanksgiving? Everybody thought it was strange. I think I will try it again but this time I will give it a romantic name , "Bowl of Blessings"?
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