Kinds of Honey

Saturdays are my favorite for stretching out the morning time. Little Miss T. wakes me up at 7:00 or so to go outside. And then back into the blankets and sheets. I love that she settles right next to me. Lazy and still and I can’t help daydreaming, making up stories about what life might have looked like, or might still look like, things I might create or make happen. And so we doze, in and out, until 10:00.

While I want a family someday I do know that this is something mothers don’t get to experience much, if ever. So I savor it without guilt.

Just as I savor caramel pudding and bosc pears for breakfast. Dark coffee with a drop of cream balances the sweetness.

Sugar melting into amber. Milk, cold, mixing in. Bubbles of sugar. Caramel. Vanilla. Pudding!

I like bosc pears a with a little crunch still left in them; these were almost at that point. I will let the others ripen for another day or so. These pears have always been so richly beautiful to me – that bronze-gold color and that clean white flesh.

The bosc pear wants to be photographed. It wants to be framed.

It is beauty with total ease. Effortless.

There is the reach of soft sunlight on a cloudy day. Pudding reminds me of England; pears of France; I am happy in Europe-love. Memories. Future travels. And for now, here, a morning’s sweetness.