Friday Ramble, Rattle and Hum

It is still dark outside, and through the window comes the clatter of the wind across the roof with its freight of frozen twigs, the sound of small icicles falling on the deck, trees in the garden shaking their snow garments loose in a long slow dance. Light snow is falling, but the descending white stuff makes no sound, at least from in here. In the kitchen, there is the burble and hiss of the De'Longhi espresso machine, the rattle and hum of the old frigidaire in the corner.

By rights, there should be the sound of a toaster too, but it will be a while until I can even think about toast. This is a "bang up" month for migraines, and I have awakened with a whopper - thought about doing prescription meds when I opened my eyes but opted for a beaker of industrial strength espresso instead.

The stuff in my cup approaches the consistency of solid propellant rocket fuel and could be dispatched with a fork. Steam rises in arty curls from the surface, and a splendid creamy froth rings its shores. The fragrance of freshly ground Logdriver Espresso (local, fair trade, organic) from Bridgehead Coffee Roasters is ambrosial. So too are the deep velvety beans in their canister. I consider drawing pictures in the foam.

Why is it my thoughts always turn to Paris when the weather is like this? With badass beaker in hand, I look through my rainy day "stash" of Cavallini rubber stamps, vintage postcards, tattered greeting cards, stickers and notebooks - the little ones with maps of France, fleurs-de-lis, French postage stamps, the Arc de Triomphe,  Louvre museum, Notre-Dame Cathedral or Eiffel Tower gracing their covers.

When the migraine has expired in my espresso sea, I will curl up in a comfortable corner and read something in French, perhaps the latest Fred Vargas. Yup, I can do this.