Harvest Time

[naamah_darling]

Every year at about this time, my family would pile into the jeep and make a pilgrimage to Carmichael's Produce. In the barn, bushel baskets of potatoes, yams, and okra stood alongside whole tables full of seasonal fruit, mostly apples still dusty from the trees, and peaches, their smell drunkenly thick. A real cider press rolled out dark, cloudy

Comments

[eudaimon]

There was an artical about belly dancing in the TImes this morning, and it made me think of you and I was wondering if you might like it?

R

[eudaimon]

i could, of course, just transcribe it for you, but there are some gorgeous pictures which was why I was thinking you might actually like to have the article itself :d

[naamah_darling]

Awesome. Do you have a scanner?

[eudaimon]

I don't, I'd have to post it?

[naamah_darling]

That would be really cool, actually . . . you don't have to go to the trouble, but it would be neat to share it with my bellydancing friends . . . a lot of them collect articles.

I'm e-mail-able at naamah (at) gmail dot com.

[naamah_darling]

Sounds cool!