Track 9 of the album Windowsill Weather · 2019
Flour on the Windowsill, Rain on the Glass
by Wren Hallett
“My grandmother's recipe, the slanted hand, flour on the sill and rain on the glass. It smells of Sunday when I sing it.”
acoustic · heirloom folk · cosy acoustic · 3:30
Lyrics
Grandma's recipe is soft as a sigh Written in a slanted hand Butter and sugar and a pinch of time That's all that I understand The rain taps the window, the oven hums low The kitchen is gold and slow I measure the flour with her chipped old cup And let the quiet grow Flour on the windowsill, rain on the glass Let the little hours drift past I'm stirring the same old spoon she held In a kitchen that holds me fast Flour on the windowsill, rain on the glass Everything tender will last She isn't here but the sweetness is In the warm that she left in the past The first small batch comes out a bit lopsided But the smell is exactly right I eat one standing, still warm in my hand In the soft and fading light Some things are measured in grams and cups And some are measured in love She never wrote down that part at all But I know it's what it's made of Flour on the windowsill, rain on the glass Let the little hours drift past I'm stirring the same old spoon she held In a kitchen that holds me fast Flour on the windowsill, rain on the glass Everything tender will last She isn't here but the sweetness is In the warm that she left in the past Rain on the glass, rain on the glass Let the little hours pass