![]() The person to whom she is speaking is myself. ‘Oh my,’ she exclaims, her breath smoking the windowpane, ‘it’s fruitcake weather!’ Her face is remarkable – not unlike Lincoln’s, craggy like that, and tinted by sun and wind but it is delicate too, finely boned, and her eyes are sherry-colored and timid. She is small and sprightly, like a bantam hen but, due to a long youthful illness, her shoulders are pitifully hunched. She is wearing tennis shoes and a shapeless gray sweater over a summery calico dress. Just today the fireplace commenced its seasonal roar.Ī woman with shorn white hair is standing at the kitchen window. A great black stove is its main feature but there is also a big round table and a fireplace with two rocking chairs placed in front of it. ![]() Consider the kitchen of a spreading old house in a country town. ![]() A coming of winter morning more than twenty years ago. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |