Do you ever have those moments when you are transported back in time by the slightest waft of a particular aroma? This morning I was swept away to Paul and Sharon Forney's kitchen. We had just spent a crisp morning trying to bring home some Canadian geese out at Fritz's land and were in need of some warmth and nourishment. Sharon had whipped up a variety of sweet breads for all of us devour while gripping warm mugs of steaming java. I was also on the back porch at Barb and Jim's, two years ago eating quiche (cause real men do it quiche) and enjoying some spiced breads for brunch. The reality of it all was that I was in my own little two bedroom apartment here on the campus of Bethel University, and just so happened to be drunk on the aroma of my zucchini loaves that were golden brown in the oven.
I had the bread, and the coffee, but I didn't have the same company. Although the setting was not even remotely close to the two I described above, it was wonderful. It wasn't the bread or the recently roasted Ethiopian coffee in the French press; it was the memories of old. The times that I have had that warmed my heart and brought a smile to my face. This past week I was reading about the stark contrast between Americans future oriented mentality and Africans past oriented mentality and was somewhat saddened by the loss that can take place in a future oriented society. We need to remember the past and where we have come from, and what we have experienced, so that our lives can be richer in the present. It is not always about the "next" cup of coffee, or loaf of bread, but often about the last one.
Just some thoughts for you all to chew on. (Pun intended!)
e
2 comments:
What a delightful post, Eric. It made me wonder if the Forney clan would be at all interested in our site. Do you have contact information for any of them?
It also reminded me of going to Grandma Holst's house when I was a kid.(So this was your great-grandma Holst.)Her house had a distinctive smell - I'm not at sure what the elements of it were, but a few years ago I wandered into a place that smelled the same and it brought her back strongly to me.
Grandma had a few raspberry bushes growing in her garden and would pick a few ripe berries each day until she had enough to make a batch of jam. But despite her conserving the berries for jam, she would always offer me some when I'd ride my bike over to her house. I have my own raspberry bushes now & every time I go out to pick berries I think of Grandma. I'm quite sure that my gardening techniques of growing flowers in with the vegetables and of letting things go a bit wild came directly from her!
Mary
Most of the smell that you talked about were the essence of paint....lead based
B
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