Leaning on the warm oven door.
Lucia Morning.
Every year, we gather at Bald Hill at eight AM for Lucia
buns, hot cocoa, and conversation. After breakfast, we walk to the top of the
hill and look out over the valley. Every year, we grumble about the hour—and rejoice,
once again, that we are out in the world so early. Lucia Day reminds us, in the middle of dark
times, to go outside, breathe in the air, take the far view.
Rather than driving, we rode our bikes. Really, it’s only a
couple of miles. Even with the pan of buns and jars of cocoa, not that far.
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