a short story

There is a wind here that sometimes does not cease. It is hard not to think about it, because it blows through closed windows, and forces it's way into one's thoughts through one's ears, as one walks down the street. It blows all night long, like a restless sentry, leaving one tired in the morning after the rattling conversation that lasts through the night.
This morning, I woke up with such odds stacked against me; I had been working late as it was; I felt completely drained. But I had to eat, so I went to the market, where the smell of carrots and my favourite grannies at their stalls soon took me to far better ideas than the ones I had awoken with.
Leaning Pisas of arugula; shining cauliflower in their still-life orbs; spring onion with magnificent posture; lettuce spilling off the stalls into boxes at the sides; the unexpected sweet scent of purple petals...  It was a wonderland for the senses.
And when I went to buy some of this young produce, with roots revealing they had been cut early this morning, one of the sellers said to me: How are you? You must be good, because life is good and God is great! And I thought to myself, heavens, I am in good health, I have enough money to buy this meal...
And in an instant, all that had ailed me disappeared like a bad movie when one changes the channel.
So, this is my story for you today. There is a new podcast over at Sofia's blog which I am looking forward to listening to later tonight, but for now, I so longed to share this little story with you.

Elements: needlework; lace brush; shipping tag.