I love mornings, opening the kitchen terrace doors, letting in the gentle breeze and the sunlight as it rises over the hill behind me. The other morning as I cut into one of summer's first cantaloupes, the melon's perfume, mixed with the brewing coffee, filled me to the tip of my head with a longing for my childhood summers. Closing my eyes, I was here.
Monday, June 6, 2011
I love mornings, opening the kitchen terrace doors, letting in the gentle breeze and the sunlight as it rises over the hill behind me. The other morning as I cut into one of summer's first cantaloupes, the melon's perfume, mixed with the brewing coffee, filled me to the tip of my head with a longing for my childhood summers. Closing my eyes, I was here.
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