snippets: how warm and cold supper can be

Beautifully penned. A sweet poem about love, relationships, and food.
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image: the vegetable gardener

the water in the pot, as it began to boil,

beat out a percussion tune

windows began to steam and frost ferns grew

soon smell of parsnips and turnip swirled round the wood stove

pedestrian potatoes felt steam bath too

scraps of rinds scrapped off to the compost bucket

knife, hands and wrists resting from the vegetable wars

struggle to contain root veggies to cookable chunks

set table with favourites:

chipped but cherished square pottery plate beautifully made as a long ago love gift

mismatched real silverware discovered in yard sales and buried in back yards

crystal wine glass, now lone of set of two

pretty iris adorned paper napkins

lid rattles, butter warms, taste buds awaken

as winter rages, root cellar feast

candles, to protect against the storm-enforced darkness

make all seem like someone sits across the table

smiling, clinking glasses and saying:

“I love rutabagas…

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