The kitchen smelt of elderflower, until the grill warmed to cook sausages, until the boiled water hit the coffee grounds.
Outside we ate breakfast, seated over new mown grass. A pink rose, open, bowed a stem.
Later, where there is a shallowing over the brown shaded rocks, the river was forded. An elder bouquet, plucked and fetched home.
A bucketful of perfumed, foamy flower heads stands ready for brewing.
Now, rose tea steams in the pot.
Sweet spiced vegetables simmer on a slow cook. Under the petal scents, too, mouthwatering fat-blobs linger in the grill pan.
Somewhere in the sky an aeroplane carries Boy away, from Heathrow to New Delhi.
Ten days to wait before we hear those stories. I can't help but think of the market in Singapore, where the smeech of deep-frying ducks made his eyes water. We went to a café for breakfast then instead, went busily about our day. When we walked from an air conditioned shopping centre past a sizzle of food stalls he said in sweetly youthful innocence, with much feeling and fantastically clear diction: 'I hate that Chinese smell!'
We have teased him about it ever since.


Suze said…
New Delhi!
Geo. said…
I love the closing photo where clouds gather and look down in gentle curiosity. I have seen them do that to my children.
Lisa Southard said…
From New Delhi to Chennai today, lucky adventurous Boy! He has a history teacher who visits India regularly and finds it so inspirational he decided to set up a school trip. I don't know if the clouds are different there but I hope they are gentle and curious, those are the best kind of clouds :-)
Misha Gerrick said…
Rose tea sounds wonderful. Hope Boy enjoys his trip. :-)

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