On cold winter mornings, she would curl up in the rocking chair with her glass mug of coffcoca, and watch the crystal prisms strung in the kitchen window make stained glass patterns of the floor. Often the hoarfrost rimed leaves, vines and delicate patterns of ice on the window glass. Peaking through to the winter world outside was seeking a faerie world of white.

With the glassed-in terrarium windows, she grew herbs all year, forced early blooms on spring bulbs, and set flower and vegetable seedlings for her garden. Ice storms, turned her fruit trees into glassy, diamond bright prisms, like those in her kitchen window. Winter wasn’t about snow and ice. For her, it was glass.

 

Stephanie’s word of the week is glass – and I used it several times in my paragraph. Visit #tuesdayuseitinasentence – it’s a fun way to hone your writing as you can write 1 sentence, or wrap a story around it the use it in a sentence word.

 

And, in case you didn’t get your invitation My Frilly Freudian Slip is the rejoining of two of my personas: Phylor and adh [a darkened house] = lets hope one head is better than two. Check things out – listen to a poem, write a story, do interpretive dance, have refreshments. No obligation to return, no membership dues at this café.

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image: frost on a window by mrrshan

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