September 25, 2017

Near Florence

I like walking with the wind at my back . . . but better, almost every day, is to face the breeze, cheeks red with the contact of the icy fingers of early spring and my mind racing toward summer trails above the beaches of the coasts . . . planning some new way to combine carrots, potatoes and mushrooms into an accompaniment to the B♭ elegance of evening greys into reds of night . . .

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