Kitchen Angels

Kitchen Angels 

Somehow, I understood how this passing garden, was chronicled forever in my heaven.

Kitchen Angels glimpsed through our senses. Although, it’s at the edges of sense where they’re sharpest. When I was twenty, I lived at The Yogurt Farm, not a working farm, but instead a property that students rented. There was a large farmhouse with a garden, and a meadow with trails that led off to yurts along the forest edge. I lived in one of the yurts, with my toddler son, without heat or water, so we shared the kitchen and bathroom with the farmhouse.

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