waffle

Waffles of love …

Today I love waffles for breakfast when they’re made fresh from scratch and they are steaming away in the iron and the smell goes through the kitchen and then the family room and then the whole downstairs smells like heaven might smell if only it were a place as wonderful as a kitchen on a waffle eating Sunday morning. I love kitchens that aren’t big enough for two people to work in them but I love them more when two people have learned to dance around each other in a kitchen that small. I love the sunshine and the rain and today is a sunshine day, so the waffle eating Sunday morning kitchen is awash with a flood of syrup colored sunlight as it streams in through the morning windows. I love that there are fun textiles being contrived in my home, hats that are from popular movies and sweaters that will be worn for winter activities and birthday presents and scarves that apparently can be started and finished in the space of a short, two set concert. I love that people working on the festival preparations at the park will be having a good day, free from precipitation, though we all know that it never rains on Summerfolk. It gets a little damp sometimes, and a few inches might accumulate every now and then, but rain? Never.

Today I love that tomorrow I’ll be back on site at the park to move things around and to lend a hand where ever I and my tools might be needed. I love that my friend and one of my favored local musical geniuses, Mr. Dylan McMullin, will be hosting the Homemade Jam stage once again this year and that, if we are lucky enough, my duo, Hot Black Coffee, will be playing that stage again. I love that of all the stages at the festival, that one represents my town the most because it is where you will find the souls with the heart to perform and the determination to do it in public.

Today I love that there is rhubarb and strawberries and many things still coming in to the house from our tiny garden. I love that there is talk of going for a good walk in the woods for this last official day of our holidays. I love that I always feel like I have been returned to my home, even if it is just for a visit, whenever I enter the woods. I love that I can tell the time of year still by what the woods look like, what is blooming, what state the fallen leaves are in, what state the trees are in, even the smell of it tells its secrets. I love that if you were ever in its confidence before, the woods remembers you and your spirit and renews its acquaintance immediately.

Today I love sipping coffee as the waffles cook and the garden riches flood in and the fun hats develop and the woods calls to me.