“In a viable neighborhood, neighbors ask themselves what they can do or provide for one another, and they find answers that they and their place can afford. This, and nothing else, is the practice of neighborhood.” Wendell Berry
This morning at breakfast, I rolled the hot boiled eggs out onto a dish towel on the table. Then, when I sat down beside them I was immediately captured by their beautiful egg-sense in the light of a November 1 morning. Brown eggs they were…. from our neighbor. A mighty-fine thank you for the use of our bush-hog.
2 Comments
November 2, 2009 at 1:41 am
Eggstremely beautiful
(sorry, couldn’t resist!)
The light on them is gorgeous tho- really!I can feel their warmth from here, in my hand….
November 18, 2009 at 11:37 am
Brown eggs remind me when I used to gather eggs from the hen house.
I can visualize Dad and his boiled egg preparing rituals. . .
1. A tedious peeling process with shell remnants placed in a bowl beside his plate
2. Bisecting the egg into perfectly symmetric hemispheres
3. Smashing the egg through the tines of a fork
4. Apply a dab of butter, some salt and pepper
5. Repeat step 3. until yolk, whites, butter, salt and pepper are homogenously dispersed
6. Evenly apply a skim coat of butter and liberal quantity of jam onto two pieces of toast.
7. Repeat 6. for willing guests at the table
8. Devour everything on the place