sketchbook stories: the Bean boots
undoing the laces
LL Bean boots: Three pairs by the woodstove. Melting snow puddles on the boot tray. Itchy wool socks, flecked with gray and white like the fur of the cat nesting nearby. His low purr of feline contentment, a meditation. Blustery winter day, tree branches scraping against frosty clapboards like chalky fingernails.
LL Bean boots: a Mainer’s official winter uniform. Also, snow pants and anoraks and waffle-textured long-johns dimpling our pasty skin. Jumping through crusty snowdrifts. Waterlogged leather. Inside, Mum’s Anadama bread baking, air tinged with molasses. Dad’s flannel shirt flung over the rocking chair. “Little Women” on the table, half-finished.
The last two sentences are a story all by themselves. It reminds me of all the times I've left a book on a table half-finished.
We are still waiting for some snow. My seldom used Bean boots are getting bored just sitting around, ready and waiting, to go for a little hike. Thought putting a big pot of minestrone on the stove and making some corny cornbread would encourage a few visible flakes to fall out of the sky...I'm easy to please, but no dice so far no matter how threatening and cold the sky looks.