Slugging around all week at work,
slothing around, slow slow slow.
Friday Friday Friday.
Sliced across the middle of my index-finger-nail
with a chef's knife. Tender. Bone.
Melinda asked me this afternoon
if I would like a peach.
Sure.
I like peaches.
A moment later, a bowl of sliced fresh peaches
and Greek yogurt drizzled with agave syrup
appeared on the table in front of me
in the middle of a paint-tube hodgepodge.
In the middle of Friday!
(This was my reminder that life was good
and would always be good.)
le fin
I have a friend who tends to serve fresh peaches for breakfast. She peels and slices them, and serves them in a huge bowl. Life doesn't get much better.
ReplyDeleteBisou, Cro.
I baked a nectarine tart yesterday and while slicing those deliciously juicy, SLIPPERY, ruby orbs, sliced the top of my left index finger. Synchronicity?
ReplyDeleteJacqueline -- I can do without synchronicity that involves knives and fingers! That tart sounds marvelous.
ReplyDeletethere is joy to be found among the drudgery
ReplyDeleteDecent peaches, nay, even edible peaches, are few and far between in NYC. While in New Orleans though, a friend provided me with fresh, ripe peaches from Alabama, via a friend of hers. Greater friendship hath no woman than to share her ripe, Alabama gifted peaches.
ReplyDeleteLove, C.
Reminders that life is good, delivered in bowls...not a peach, here, but a perfect ripe mango.
ReplyDelete