Flash in the Pan
A Quarterly Posting at Tiny Lights
Sunday Breakfast At Willow Wood
by Fran Claggett
"I suppose you'll have the usual, right?"
"Right. The French Folded Eggs and a triple shot latté."
But when it came, all I saw was the golden mustard that had popped out overnight in the meadow, in the apple orchard, in the vineyard between the rows of dormant vines—mustard, everywhere, the color of French Folded Eggs which lie on my plate in their mustard perfection surrounded by the bare branches of hundred-year-old apple trees. And the way the sun pushed away the clouds and let the rain remain on the branches hit the yellow mustard in a brazen reflection of itself, and it was as if the sun had settled into the earth and come up beaming.
I looked down into my plate of French mustard eggs folded into a perfect breakfast. The latté was dark and hot.
Fran Claggett periodically teaches memoir writing and poetry at the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute at Sonoma State. She is a former high school and college English and humanities teacher and has written or co-written a number of books for both students and teachers.
Back to Flashes