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.
