Nubbly

She was a little woman, in a bonnet and a black costume. Her bonnet was in its third year; it was a great grievance to Annie. “Mother!” the girl implored, “don’t wear that nubbly little bonnet.”

Though Clifford paid preliminary homage to them both, she was the one he finally made love to, rather quickly on the nubbly hooked rug.

When that crust is nubbly and evenly browned, and the chicken meat is cooked through, the chicken is sublime.

My description thus far makes this sound like a clash-of-civilizations novel, or a techno nail-biter, something out of Neal Stephenson or Stephen King, but it doesn’t read that way: It’s more nubbly.