Joy Comes in the Morning

As I walked out this morning, something sitting on the low wall that lines a ramp of the building across the street. Joy of Cooking. Icon of 70s America. Recognizable from thirty paces, even to a non-cook. Closer inspection reveals it's a bit waterlogged. Left out in the rain? (There was no rain last night.) Dropped in the bath? Or the broth?

Moments later. An older gentleman has it in hand. Bon appetit!