Named by the French for the innocent hour between daylight and dark. The blue hour. My favorite.
Listening to: When the Blue Hour Comes by Joan Osborne
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What's a nasty bite?
My grandfather called her Sunshine. And when my grandmother wanted a simple meal, she called it a nasty bite. Sometimes that meant a bowl of homemade soup -- other times just a Little Debbie snack cake.
But more than food, it was often a memory or a moment that went beyond sustaining life to making it.
Those are the moments I seek. So like Sunshine, I'm just looking for a nasty bite too.
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