By this time, the wind outside was howling for all it was worth. Bursts of sand and snow leaped into the air like ocean spray, while scraps of crumpled paper and other debris tumbled along the street. Next door, a pair of empty trash barrels lay on their sides, scratching and bumping against a pile of rock-hard snow at the end of the driveway. Another great gust of wind roared through, and the cover to one of the barrels rolled off across the street like a wayward hubcap. The cold, bleak scene and the roar of the wind sent a chill racing up Francesca’s spine. From what she could see, there was no letup to winter in sight. “Where’s all this global warming they’re always yapping about?” Francesca muttered. Pulling the collar of her sweater tighter about her neck, she turned from the window and looked back to the kitchen, where the improvised peach crumb cake she had just baked in a cast-iron frying pan was cooling atop the stove. A pan of soup warmed on the burner beside it. The scent of the cake drifted pleasantly throughout the house, but like any baker, having been immersed in the warm, sweet aroma for some time now, Francesca noticed it little.
What do You think about Francesca's Kitchen (2006)?
