We're up slowly with the rain, a blessing for the drought parched land. For us everything just takes a little bit longer, the mud congealing on my shoes and slowly spreading into our bed no matter how careful we try to be. The water's refreshingly cool on my face, the same temperature as the air, and it makes a film in my hair. We sit in the bakery, the smell of coffee and cakes and food flooding into us as the rain constant drips down the window. Children play loudly in the small play pen in the corner and conversations compete with the open kitchen noises. I'm drinking refreshing peppermint tea, eating a beesting, custard honey pastry, sweet and sticky. The icing sugar sticks on my fingers, the fork I abandoned and the hot mug.Thursday, May 1, 2008
Day 33, Beechwood Bakery, Bendigo
We're up slowly with the rain, a blessing for the drought parched land. For us everything just takes a little bit longer, the mud congealing on my shoes and slowly spreading into our bed no matter how careful we try to be. The water's refreshingly cool on my face, the same temperature as the air, and it makes a film in my hair. We sit in the bakery, the smell of coffee and cakes and food flooding into us as the rain constant drips down the window. Children play loudly in the small play pen in the corner and conversations compete with the open kitchen noises. I'm drinking refreshing peppermint tea, eating a beesting, custard honey pastry, sweet and sticky. The icing sugar sticks on my fingers, the fork I abandoned and the hot mug.
