Before the Walls Pop

I think it is a compulsion -- soup making.
     Not from scratch, but my wife has never 
been big on leftovers because as one of 
     five kids, she never experienced them. 
I got into trouble once for not asking
     if I could use the leftovers, so from 
last night’s wonderful dinner of drop 
     dead gorgeous, fall off the bone pork 
ribs in a saucy sauce and salvaged-from-
     the-crisper squash slathered in fresh 
garlic, I asked, "Honey, may I, pretty 
     please?" and got the go ahead nod with 
a note of enthusiasm -- red and yellow 
     bell peppers, eye-tearing onions, Italian 
seasoning (organic oregano, organic basil, 
     organic marjoram, organic sage, organic 
garlic), more fresh garlic, multi-colored 
     carrots, salt and pepper, some more salt and 
pepper, chicken stock, filtered water, huge purple
     radishes from the farmer’s market, a can of 
diced tomatoes, more dried seasoning, did I 
     mention more fresh garlic? deep orange 
carrots from the farmer’s market, deep green peas 
     in edible skins from the farmer’s market and 
heat, lots of heat to boiling and back and forth 
     and, did I mention some more salt and pepper? 
The house was filled with such gastronomic delight 
     I thought the walls were going to pop. It’s 
cold, it’s sunny, a great day for a jog after a 
     small taste test tease and dreaming on the 
trails of all our friends in the pot cozy 
     on a cold day beckoning, “We will be here 
waiting for you, love. Better get back before 
     the walls pop in ecstasy."
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