Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Pinchings

In the pantry hanging by a cotton string, a bunch of dried oregano garnered in the peak of June's herbal bounty; mid morning snippings, while the bees danced and drank of the pinkish purple flower's nectar, these are the memories that are aroused during my search of culinary flavor.

Tonight my spaghetti sauce was in need of just a pinch.

once again ...and even more frozen whiteness

  There is a wilder solitude in winter  When every sense is pricked alive and keen.         --May Sarton ("The House in Winter" A ...