This somewhat wind blown iris came from bulbs that have been transplanted twice, and I’ve managed to keep them alive.  The bulbs were originally planted by my dad, years ago.  When my mother to the city where I now live, she dug up the bulbs so they could be planted in my yard.  They survived that first move well.

Six years ago, I moved to my current house.  I dug up the bulbs and replanted them in my new yard.  Now, I like to garden, but I’m no expert, and my plants suffer when I get busy and neglect them.   These past six years have been extraordinarily busy. But, the irises have come back every year.  They are probably my favorite reminder of my dad, who loved  gardening and never neglected any of his plants.

This was my mom’s measuring cup, which I’ve had for a while.  I found it yesterday while rearranging some things in my pantry.  This cup, along with a flour sifter (you may have to be a certain age to remember flour sifters) that’s probably long gone, are the things that remind me most of baking from scratch.  

I mostly remember pound cakes, cherry cakes, yellow cakes with chocolate frosting, and many kinds of Christmas cookies.  At the time, I didn’t appreciate the pound cakes, but I love them now.  The cherry cake was made for my dad’s birthday, and it was made with an icing that was heavier than a glaze, but lighter than a typical frosting, The icing also contained bits of cherries. Cherry has never been my favorite flavor, but I’d love to find that recipe.  The yellow cake was a traditional one, and I loved the movie thick frosting.  

Once my mom returned to full time work, when I was in elementary school, she didn’t make as many cakes.  But, every year, until she was in her early seventies and her health began to decline, she made several kinds of cookies at Christmas.  She shared cookies with family and friends, and I do have many of those recipes.

At some point in time, the metal cup disappeared, replaced by a set of plastic ones.  But, it is this up I remember most as a little girl, sitting in the kitchen, attempting to help my mother bake.