I perch on the kitchen’s wooden stool with a note pad in front of me.  The smell of cinnamon, nutmeg, and baking bread fills the kitchen; the scent envelops me like a velvet cloak.  Outside the picture window, trees sway in the wind, crimson and gold maple leaves flutter to the ground.  Like the damp earth, my counter is also splattered with color:  brown sugar, tawny spices, red cranberries, green pistachios.  It’s fruitcake baking season.  A torn page from a magazine leans cockeyed against the window sill.  The paper is yellowed and my handwriting noting alterations to the ingredients crawls through butter stains.  It doesn’t matter; I know the recipe by heart. For more, click download button above!


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