It's a hot October day in Los Angeles, and as I work on rewriting and compiling my stories from my time in Kosovo, I'm missing the fall and winter weather.
Ahh... my wood stove in my Kosovo kitchen. In winter, with the electricity turned off more than on, it was my main source of warmth, and I quickly learned to cook over it. (Isn't it funny how romantic memories can be? I forget the pain of burning my right thumb in the same spot, almost every morning, as I reached in to feed the fire with more wood.) The teapot was always filled with water, an easy humidifier and ready to pour for a cup of caj (tea) when visitors stopped by to sit and tell stories.
“Imagine our tribe around a fire on a dark night and ask yourself: do stories matter?” ~David Guterson
As a city girl, I don't sit around fires much anymore. I miss beach bonfires at the Oregon coast, the fireplace in the winter.
Don’t Let Wall Street Run Amok
4 hours ago