Ruminations and recipes from a small kitchen in a big city.


Spring afternoon.

It must have been about three in the afternoon, a picture book spring day, and the air was so still you could hear the bees buzzing.

Magpies were chortling in the old pine tree, birds of other types were flitting and swooping over the shrubs and the vegetables, coming to rest on the fence or the edge of a pot plant or a branch in one of the blossoming fruit trees, there to chatter away before flitting off again. Busy birds.

The purple heads of the newly-flowering sage reached upwards from their silvery green foliage towards the warm afternoon sun. Likewise the deep crimson flowers of the green beans, growing by the day.

Goldie dozed in the shade, her bone largely now devoid of meat and any further interest.

A perfect spring afternoon, ideal for a nap.


Yes, I just had to mow the lawn.

A dreadful shattering of the peace, I know, but have you seen that stuff grow at this time of year?

Goldie slunk off to her bed in disgust.

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