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Lemon and Salt

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Our gracious host, Rochelle, is asking us to get
creative in 100 words or less using the photo
seen below. Welcome to Friday Fictioneers.
This is where the prompt took me.

© Roger Bultot

The firewood bucket sat where Mama placed it the morning after the funeral – atop the hutch, unreachable, untouchable.

Papa had rubbed it every Sunday with lemon and kosher salt. We’d watch his weathered hands work the polishing cloth in slow circles, the copper glowing like the hearth.

Image by Me & ChatGPT

Now it gathers shadows instead of firelight. Tarnish creeps across its sides like quiet grief.

Sometimes I drag a chair over, just to touch the wooden handle. It still smells faintly of wood smoke and Papa’s flannel shirt.

We bought a new log holder. Shiny. Practical.

Nobody polishes it on Sundays. Nobody will.

NAR©2026
100 Words

This is “Cutting Firewood” by James Gallagher Band

3 April 2026

Everything on The Elephant’s Trunk was created by me, unless otherwise indicated. Thanks for your consideration. NAR©2017-present.

53 thoughts on “Lemon and Salt”

    1. Memories are funny that way; some of the most seemingly insignificant things pop up in our quiet moments that we’d long forgotten about. This song was a new find, but I thought it went well. Thanks very much.

      Shalom

      🕊️

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