Marmalade

Today Denise and I made marmalade. It was dull and gray and damp outside. Dreich, as they say in my country. Not a day to take landscapes. As the marmalade bubbled these droplets of condensation collected on the window. It reminded me of wet Saturdays as a child. Imprisoned indoors, watching tears of condensation on the windows. And the smell of marmalade cooking too reminded me of my mother, who loved marmalade with a passion. She made huge stores of marmalade, raspberry jam, bottled plums, bottled raspberries... So I have had a reflective afternoon, inside, looking back.