In the black of the night,
the kitchen fairy is up.
Sleep hides from her, skulking like a shadow, somewhere near by, but not close enough.
Tiptoed footsteps to the kitchen, careful to avoid the creaks in the floorboards.
outside is silence, the black of night is at its most silent.
The household sleeps on,
as the kitchen fairy begins to weigh and chop. Silent in her cutting and quartering.
her thoughts scamper from one to another, but even they eventually stop and pause, once the rhythm of cooking has taken over.
A match is struck, pots turned on.
Her breath held, while a pot lid slips from her grasp. She needn’t worry, the household slumbers on.
With the smells of plums and vanilla teasing the sleeping nostrils, she knows only good dreams can come of that.
Outside, the night continues on in black.
The kitchen fairy’s eyes grow weary,
sleep has stepped out of her shadows, beckoning to her once again.
The pots are turned off, her work now is done.
The slowly greying dawn will show lined jars of vivid plum jam, and cooling racks of sourdough bread,
time for the kitchen fairy to rest.
2.3 kilos of plums
2 kilos of sugar
juice of 1 lime