i cast on yarn that reminds me of bracken,
ferns that have lost their gentle fronds,
that have dried and bent back into the earth,
a far cry from their bright green fiddleheads of the spring.
balsamic-poached figs,
(recipe in october issue of whole living magazine)
resting in the fridge for an evening when
a roasted chicken and a puddle of polenta
might call out for them.
autumn.
the best of all.
welcome, sweetness.
I'm bringing my knitting and coming over!
ReplyDeleteSuch comfort. I could almost feel the security of a knit scarf and smell the aromas of sweet fruit and balsamic.
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