On the windowsill are five tomatoes, a basket of apples and garlic, and a bag of what looks like thyme. Four of the tomatoes are red, one is green, and the apples have that slightly wrinkled look which tells they’re just passed their eating prime but still perfect for baking. The kitchen reminds me of the farmhouse outside of Toulouse where I once worked combined with a touch of my grandparents house in South Alabama. Cast iron skillets smeared in bacon grease on the stove top. ...
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