the voice of a storm that sweeps destroyingly over forest and mountain
A broad quarter-moon of home fries framed one side of the plate, while four locally-processed and lovingly cooked sausages stretched around the other. In the middle, further bracketed by smiling melon slices and a varicolored field of berries, towered a column of English muffin, home-cured ham, drooling farm-fresh eggs, and a thick, suspended puddle of Béarnaise, topped by a quasi-religious cross of two asparagi, draped just so.
“The post-office is a wonderful establishment!” said she.—“The regularity and despatch of it! If one thinks of all that it has to do, and all that it does so well, it is really astonishing!”
She's so strong, she can throw a mid-range whilst the other ones have to throw a driver.
