It was too the edge of the earth. Just down the path about 50 yards was a bluff overlooking the bay. Seemed like an edge to me. Words were written, meals were savored, writing group was missed. All in all, a good week.
September 15—Write about a fragrance
Soft and warm the scent of just-baked bread perfumes the kitchen of the old farmhouse at the end of Goebel’s Lane. Six dark brown loaves line the counter emitting the fragrance of honey, wheat, and the secret ingredient, bacon grease. Competition is fierce for the privilege of eating the first heel, that perfect vessel of butter-soaked bread, crackling crust, and soft interior like a cloud. The sharp tang of the black walnut honey is very strong and the solid taste of bacon cannot be forgotten. One whiff of that yeasty goodness transports me back to the kitchen with the white metal cabinets and worn green linoleum where small children jostle for the honor of that first slice.
See you Thursday with Bob's critique in hand. I have an inkling it's my turn to submit, better check the schedule. See you then!
--Barbara
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