Later in the day, I had a conversation with a friend who was teasingly insulted by the headline Texas Braces for Erin which reminded me to have The Professor update our hurricane tracking chart. It is an old magnetic one that, as the story goes, my grandma won for her husband the farmer who had been using a map as weathered as himself that the newspaper printed one year. She won this fancy-schmancy magnetic map from a nearby radio station. Not sure it was the grand prize she thought it was although it has always been treasured by someone. Check out the location of some of the major cities. Look closely. Notice anything a little odd?Click to make the picture larger.
Hang on, this train of thought has one more stop to make. Pondering that map, cherishing that apron and watching the thermometer creep closer to 90 degrees before 9 AM made me remember that farmhouse fondly, but only one other thing could bring it into sharp detail for me. Raw cauliflower. Have you ever had the experience of a taste or a smell that literally transports you to another place? Raw cauliflower is my portkey back to that quiet little house where the inhabitants beat the sun out of bed just to sip their cups of coffee and watch the news in black and white. Where the plastic accordion door did very little to keep the heat from escaping the kitchen on a sizzling before sunrise kind of day. Where the groaning floorboards gave away all secrecy the shuffling old bodies were trying to maintain so as not to wake the young granddaughter still asleep in the mint green corner bedroom. I don't know why raw cauliflower triggers these reminiscences. I don't even remember the first time I ate cauliflower in that creaky little cottage. Though the house is gone now and so are the dear ones who made it my home away from home, I remember fondly and try to share these memories with my dearest ones.
Excuse me... I think I need an apron.