Chestnut Wood Butter Knife
Idle Sunday brunches next to the window. The sun is streaming in, gently waking you up with its warmth. The smell of warm toast, the cold slab of butter and chilled jar of marmalade, oozing little misty pearls in the heat. And you pick up that smooth, carved chestnut wood butter knife to begin the comforting ritual of making breakfast. Into the jar it goes, and then onto the toast. Sundays are indeed made for brunches.