Five minutes this morning became five hours. In five hours we’ve sailed twenty-five miles in the Tyrrhenian Sea. We don’t know where we are going. Well, we do know we want to get to Sicily soon. That’s the general direction, south. While making yoghurt I ponder about being a messenger. That’s why we blog, right. We are envoys sharing messages on whatever topic we are experts on. Or we muse, which I’ve noticed happens a lot.
Sipping coffee and gazing at the horizon words won’t come. My mind is blank. My dad used to remark; ‘Sometimes I sit and think. Other times I just sit.”
Then I made French vanilla ice-cream with real eggs and sugar and milk and cream. The mixture is in the fridge, cooling until tonight when I’ll whip it my Donvier Ice-Cream maker. Homemade vanilla ice-cream, infused with vanilla pods from Madagascar. Bought in Palma de Mallorca. And used today on the east coast of Italy. The boat smells of vanilla. I’ll serve the ice-cream with Amarena cherries. Tart black cherries from Italy. The syrup sticky, dark bruised purple which swirl and streak ice-cream in the palest of pinks. A sunset you can eat.
Mojito glides on a lake of indigo glass. The barest of breezes whisper in her main sail. No messages yet except those written in light. Another cup of coffee. A piece of toast with lemon honey from Amalfi. The bread was a gift from a shop keeper. Palatine bread, chewy and nutty flavored.
My tummy full. Words came at last. The message. I don’t have a message for you. I’d rather let the message written in light tell the story.
Linking up with other fabulous woman on Lisa-Jo Baker’s blog for FiveMinuteFriday. Prompt word: MESSENGER