My neighbour Angela drops by clutching a plastic bag which she holds out to me. Inside are deep red cuore di buffo tomatoes and a small paper bag. Inside the paper bag are 4 fresh eggs, snug and still warm. Poci (a few) she explains, because her hens are not laying much. Perhaps they feel a change in the season, I suggest. No, she replies pragmatically, they have moods, and promptly sets off home to tuck them in. As dusk falls a full moon rises and the temperature drops. The night is crisp and clear. Up the road at 700 m. it will be chilly in Angela's hen house. I light the fire for the first time and the eggs I cook for supper taste of this day, this moon, this landscape. A precious gift indeed. Thank you moody Marche hens.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
a bag of eggs
My neighbour Angela drops by clutching a plastic bag which she holds out to me. Inside are deep red cuore di buffo tomatoes and a small paper bag. Inside the paper bag are 4 fresh eggs, snug and still warm. Poci (a few) she explains, because her hens are not laying much. Perhaps they feel a change in the season, I suggest. No, she replies pragmatically, they have moods, and promptly sets off home to tuck them in. As dusk falls a full moon rises and the temperature drops. The night is crisp and clear. Up the road at 700 m. it will be chilly in Angela's hen house. I light the fire for the first time and the eggs I cook for supper taste of this day, this moon, this landscape. A precious gift indeed. Thank you moody Marche hens.
