February 4, 2008
There’s a nearby farm stand that’s open year round. During the winter months, root vegetables, with the occasional greenhouse lettuce, make up the bulk of the local produce. But, it’s worth the snowy trip for the homemade soups and breads. I’d rounded the corner from the steaming vats of chowders and stews to the bakery aisle when I saw her. Tiny and tottering, she appeared to weigh in at about the same number as her age, somewhere in the nineties. Despite her size, she was blocking access to the bin of fresh rolls. Instead of pushing past her, I waited. And watched. She examined each scone with such focus, holding it close to her glasses, smelling it, smiling, placing it back on the shelf. She was completely absorbed in the yeasty aroma, the texture and weight of each scone. She had no idea I was there.