Thursday, December 27, 2012


Evenings are a cocktail around 6. Mine lasts till well after 7. This disturbs the Frenchman.*

Evening is pots and pans being hauled from cupboards, ingredients chosen, and chopped. It is warm light and flowers on the table, music from the bedroom where Vince works on something at his computer. It is the cat asleep on the bed, the lights on the terrace - small bright spots in the cold dark, the drip of the tap into a pan that needs washing in the kitchen sink. It is the soft gasp of the gas oven, the hum of the fridge, a door slamming in a downstairs apartment. The drawing in and the drawing near, the coming home, the gathering close, the summoning and preserving of the pulse in the blood that makes us go, go, go.

* (read comments)


  1. Just lovely, Marie. You are an inspiration.

  2. I had to laugh. At first I read it that the Frenchman was disturbed by you drinking!!!!!

  3. A lovely description of your evening - I almost felt that i was there with you.

  4. Stirring... Memory of my evenings past, not so just now, but will be again

  5. (Big happy sigh) That was lovely to read before leaving for work this morning. I'ts 7:30 am here in the most NW corner of the US. Happy day Marie!

  6. beautiful ... simple + beautiful is the perfect life I do believe
    much love Susan & les Gang

  7. Gosh. I just want to curl up with the cat and enjoy. Tell the Frenchman to either get a glass or get a life.

    1. Thank you for your support, webb. But the Frenchman has a life and a drink! His just disappears in about 20 minutes, max. Mine lasts.


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