Black smudges, gray clouds, ganache

Golden line from the opening story "introduction: hunting years" from Tom Franklin's story collection, Poachers (1999):

Buzzards float overhead, black smudges against the gray clouds.

Makes that whole story live. Great. Amazing how one line does it. It really does.


Had an early breakfast date with my niece Jolie this morning at the best cafe, handsdown, in Berkeley - Elmwood Cafe. She stares her thoughtful-look out the window for a moment at the green horizon Berkeley Hills, a cup of housemade ganache-infused hot chocolate, pumpkin waffle with housemade pumpkin butter and real maple syrup before her. How do you beat that?

Elmwood's ganache sits on the counter next to their espresso machine in a small plastic container, a thick, dark, chocolate-y butter.