Tea and Toast

Toast Song, transcribed to the best of my ability

A cold Midwestern morning, gold and pink and orange dawn
Down to get the paper and put the coffee on.
The news is grey and dismal one could sit and weep almost
Except for pumpernickel transcending into toast.
Two thin slices turning golden, bread smell rising like a prayer
And then that lovely music of your feet upon the stair
In an old blue bathrobe, love is standing there.

The (?) man stands silent, love is more than he can say(?)
The sweet familiar pleasure to be alive today
And though the news is dismal, God has given us our bread
With butter and raspberries generously spread.
When I get old and nights are longer, long dark thoughts the whole night through
I’ll be glad for morning, calm and bright and new.
And toast a couple slices and sit and wait for you.

The song, to the tune of Schubert's Die Forelle, aired on A Prairie Home Companion on February 5, 2005. To listen, go here and click on the second segment.


The past while has been a bit rough, I'm rather worn down but hanging in there. It's bleak outside, dense fog this morning and no light whatsoever. Even auto-correct in photoshop can't hide the yellowness of poor florescent indoor lighting. So starts the season of finding creative ways to light our photos.

I've finished one slipper and started it's mate, though nothing to show, really. I'll be sneaking in a few rows in a moment now that the baby has finally gone for a nap. After a crummy start to the week, it was my aim to do better today. Blueberry tea, toast with jam, a piece of chocolate, and a cracked nut (the walnut, not me) helped get me on my way. An episode of House of Eliott while nursing the baby to sleep was also a nice escape into the 1920's British fashion world. I do like Beatrice's bobbed curls, and am tempted to cut my own hair. I won't be too hasty on that decision.