Winter does not persevere. It watches, it bates your heart with ice, it stays for as long as it wants. It rains only to freeze the water to skin, frosts trees to take the place of leaves. It kills all the vegetation to paint the ground in the white it creates, ruling over the land. It's visceral and it's raw, cutting deep into the flesh of the people to watch veins constrict and cheeks pink, for lips to crack and eyes to glaze. Because winter likes what it can do, what it can make, what it can suffocate and what it can bring to life. In the midst of the chill, it ignores the predictable. It lingers for the change.
The change did not occur. Spring will bloom like it should, and it will rain like it should, off and on, crisp and warm for hardy crops to be harvested - dandelions, dill weed and masses of brush, hidden with rich, strong herbs.
- 1/4 cup sweet almond oil
- 1/4 cup granulated brown sugar
- 2 teaspoons of red wine
- 3 teaspoons of honey
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