The letter for today is: Q, where I feature quiet and quince.
The power has gone off. It's quiet in the house.
I'm sitting at my desk in the bright morning sunshine. Two hours have passed already without electricity. We rely on that form of power too much. Here, in the quiet, I miss my computer.
I'm writing with a pencil on a notepad, so different from typing letters on a keyboard.
In the back garden outside the window, no fruit trees mingle with the bark and roses. I wish I could grow at least one form of fruit—maybe the old-fashioned quince. My grandmother used to serve quince jelly with scones. I still remember the flavor, slightly sweet with a fresh, fruity perfume.
Before electricity, people would cook on a wood stove. I did the same thing in the seventies, when my family tried the back-to-the-earth style of living. There was something very satisfying about baking bread in a wood oven. But before that, when people didn't have a choice, life offered enough challenge—they didn't need entertainment from the television or computer.
The quiet lulls me—allows clearer thoughts.
Oh, the power's back. Now, on with my life.