A Sweet Wobble

A carved wooden honey dipper was balanced across the rim of a shallow ceramic saucer on the low pine table. I paused, watching the pale morning light gleam along its concentric ridges. Stepping closer with soft, deliberate hops, I nudged the slender handle with both front paws. The dipper rolled off the porcelain lip with a gentle clatter and wobbled across the tableboards in a clumsy, uneven circle, slowed by its bulbous rings until it came to rest against a folded linen napkin. A faint, sunny scent of dried clover honey and smooth birch drifted upward. I leaned low, resting my chin against the turned handle while the quiet morning settled.