As we approach the winter solstice, the briefest day, the softest light I light the fires after lunch and look forward to all that is winter. To cosy evenings talking with friends, the twinkling of the chandelier, the lighting of our old brick oven, the watching of mozzarella melting, the tearing of pieces of panetone, the reading aloud of poems, the woollen blankets on the bed, outside the snow on the fields, the knowing we will swim in the lake next summer and the quiet waiting for spring. This I cherish, the hush of Le Marche winter.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
winter solstice
As we approach the winter solstice, the briefest day, the softest light I light the fires after lunch and look forward to all that is winter. To cosy evenings talking with friends, the twinkling of the chandelier, the lighting of our old brick oven, the watching of mozzarella melting, the tearing of pieces of panetone, the reading aloud of poems, the woollen blankets on the bed, outside the snow on the fields, the knowing we will swim in the lake next summer and the quiet waiting for spring. This I cherish, the hush of Le Marche winter.
