I’m sitting in my tiny trailer, looking out at the rain. Of course it is raining, it is Friday. I don’t get this rain on Friday business, it must be something cultural. I am about to make a pot of split pea soup.
I then thought about walking across the yard to put some things that I made in the freezer, which is in the studio, where my Grandson is working remotely from his office in DC. I am going to get wet. Dixie will follow me because she loves to go into the studio.
So much to smell. She will be wet. Then my unfocused mind swings to my Grandmother who had slave quarters behind her boarding house for Jewish men. The slave quarters were just there when she bought the house. She used it for Passover cooking. I never actually
went passed the screen door. I have no idea if she had an ice box in there or not. I wonder if people bringing the Pasadikey( I know, my spelling) food into the main house got wet. Probably .So maybe what goes around comes around. Here I am, maybe 70 years
later bringing food from one place to another place, feeding people that I love, getting wet. This is what I think about on a very rainy day in Port Townsend.