fun in the hardware store

A glass of milk and a sheaf of scented notepaper in hand, I ease into the porch swing. A damp handkerchief cools my neck; the pressed powder that I applied to my cheeks earlier today is long wiped away. This hot cloudless day is fast coming to a close, and in the distance I see the mounting dusk.

Gone is the dew of this morning's lawn frost. The yearling peach tree stands on the field's edge, an orchard ladder leaning companionably on its trunk. The smell of freshly tilled soil hangs in the air. My kitchen chores display themselves on the blue smocking of my apron: a smudge of sourdough, dab of cake batter, and an imprint of apple butter from a canning jar. Even the marks of a broom handle dent my palms.


Now that I have you in my grasp, dear reader, I leave you with this: can you find the 16 names of paint color in the preceeding paragraphs? Gotta give Martha Stewart credit. In addition to her glorious taste in color, she also has a way with words.