General

It was an old wooden spoon, soft and warm to the touch. If it could tell of the recipes it had helped to spin together, the savoury and the sweet, it would be the cookbook of our family.

General

The wooden spoon varied in hue, as from time to time it had taken a bright recipe to its core and kept it safely there.

General

The spoon was the warm and homely hues of the forest, those browns that ignited a sense of love in her soul.

General

The wooden spoon was the perfect buffer of hot and cold, forever the perfect feeling of warmth. In that way it embodied our wise grandmothers, warding off the extremes and keeping us all soulfully warm.

General

I felt most at home, most serene, when I was with that simple wooden spoon fixing a dinner for my family. I think when I felt that way, when the love poured out, a little of it stayed in the wooden handle. I guess it was a sort of battery for love-energy, because I know I felt a tiny spark every time I picked it up.

General

Whenever I cooked little Sam wanted the wooden spoons as his drum sticks upon the base of a wooden bowl. The rhythm came slowly in time, yet always had a lot of soul.

General

Tyler imagined himself adventuring in a giant world where the wooden spoons and bowls could be his ship and oars as he rowed over oceanic ponds.