Posted in Diary, Writing Exercises

On my kitchen table

A patterned cream tablecloth, 2 plastic placemats dotted with blue flowers, a bag of basmati rice, a bookmark made from an old piece of brocade trim, 2 simple cotton napkins embroidered each with a brown flower, a small notebook of lists with a mermaid doodled on the cover, an empty business envelope with an octopus stamped on the back, 2 receipts—one from a downtown grocery store and the other from a bookstore, 2 unopened envelopes with paystubs inside, a bookmark with a flower bud on a black background, a brown envelope with information from a Blue Cross agent inside, a sign-out receipt from the public library, my mother’s birthday present waiting to be wrapped and mailed, a book on writing poetry, a large yellow flashlight, 2 safety pins and a dry-cleaning tag, a digital camera in a Japanese hemp drawstring bag dyed lavender, an unopened package of decorative gel snowmen for the windows, 2 agendas—an Edward Monkton one open to this week and, underneath, an Audubon one for 2010, a clear plastic folder filled with papers relating to the recent weekend writing retreat I organized and attended, a young adult novel set in Ontario in 1901, a fuschia Umbra bungee wallet (empty), a blue flowered mug holding 11 pens, a stitch ripper, and a brass letter opener topped with a shell, a SONY portable tape and CD player, an unfilled doctor’s prescription, a homemade poster advertising a literary reading, an Indigo “swipe it twice” giftcard, a box of tissues patterned with white rocks, CDs of Diana Krall, Elvis Costello, Julia Fischer playing Bach concertos, Mozart Flute Concertos, Deva Premal’s The Essence, and Angela Hewitt’s Well-Tempered Clavier, a round clean liqueur glass, a stack of 13 books including Ratio by Michael Rulhman, a guide to Prince Edward Island’s birds, 2 books on sex, 3 books by Byron Katie, Donna Eden’s Energy Medicine, a guide to ballet, and a book on consciousness, an empty metal napkin holder shaped like a bird in flight, an art nouveau style tile in blue and white which came from a demolished antique stove, glass salt and pepper shakers, a medium sized rock in rust and quartz from Cavendish beach, a tea light candle in a purple and yellow ceramic saucer, a thank you card from my boyfriend’s sister depicting a bouquet of roses, a book on writing propped open in a wooden book holder, and a Sico paint sample card with 3 colour stripes on it labelled “plush purple”, “natural white”, and “winds of change”.


alchemist, writer, artist, creativity mentor, seeker of beauty and joy

2 thoughts on “On my kitchen table

  1. Thanks, Litlove. I haven’t read Francis Ponge before, but I will look him up. Yes, it’s a big table and I tidied it up the next day! Of course, others things have taken the place of those that have been filed or put away or returned to the library….

  2. This is delightful! And what a packed kitchen table you have (not so very dissimilar to my own…) Have you read the poetry of Francis Ponge? He wrote a series of amazing prose poems in each of which he studied something very ordinary – a candle, an orange, and reproduced it in language as near as he could. I found them rather beautiful, and this just made me think of them.

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