The reversal of expectations; grey winds with weighty rain smatterings clash around the edge of the house while the porch chimes rage in metal fury. It’s April! It’s April! They are upset. They try flying separate of each other but the gales force them together. Their pipes, all smashed into each other are now hopelessly tangled.
I consider them as I would helpless children. This will require a ladder, significant stretching and a lengthy time on the couch away from the winds, unwinding each black string, silver pipe and wooden weight. Not today.
I think about strawberries and a croissant; a medium coffee…light breakfast fare as it is April after all. It’s April!
But I hear the roar of the wind, watch the massacre of rain all over the windows. The birds fly slightly sideways in the air. Breakfast plans change. Now I crave hot, buttered garlic toast, dark chocolate coffee, the kind placing a wild ‘ping’ in my head and a lurch in my chest; laced with thick cream.
Fruit and sun can wait. I’m back in the throes of autumn; amber and butter and lux and gold; cheese and bisque and the heavier spoons…
690 Saint Paul 