Friday, January 27, 2012

Not a salad

This morning I daydreamed of bread, and that was remedied with the loveliest raisin bread...

'Helene Pringle dashed across the driveway and into the yard of the yellow house. He observed with some fondness that she bobbed when she dashed, rather like a small hare across an open field. She clutched a parcel in her hands, which she transferred to his. "Bread!" she exclaimed, huffing a bit. "Just baked. I hope you and Cynthia will enjoy it."
"Thank you Helene!" The seductive warmth of the loaf seeped through the brown bag. "I just might eat the whole thing standing right here!"
His neighbour laughed with a childlike merriment.'

~ In this mountain (J. Karon)

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