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Tuesday, April 5, 2011

March dribbles - 30

The log fire burned, smoke curling, guarded, safe; heat rippled strong. Up on the grate whole slabs of meat and ribs cooked slow and long, their juicy scent, sweet, heated, spiced, almost alive, smoke curling to the sky. And overhead the sausage hung, swung, smoke’s delight to fire the barbeque.

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