we stopped at the final booth this weekend at this season's outdoors Farmer's Market. I was occupied with hemming and hawing over the sweet dills or the regular dills. I asked the seller the difference ("sugar", he replied with a chuckle)
KD? She made a beeline for this beautiful garlic jelly, which she plans to enjoy with a dab of cream cheese on some good wheat crackers eventually. If I smile beatifically and use my very best manners I might be able to have a few nibbles also.
I pulled out cash to pay for our purchases and looked into the face of the gentleman selling the goods.
I said to him (mostly out of nowhere), 'Oosterwyk?!'
He looked at me with a confused smile. Was he supposed to know me?
"You were one of my high school teachers!" I gasped. It was only as I said it that I realized it. Isn't that strange how sometimes you can't even identify what is happening until you begin putting the words to it and then it all unravels, or re-winds, or whatever it needs to do to make sense again?
"Chemistry?"
"Yes. I did very poorly in your class. But it was certainly not for lack of trying on your part."
"The real zinger is seeing my old OLD students. They've grown up ... but I haven't!"
What a hoot. Twenty years ago he was teaching me chemistry; now he's using his chemical knowledge to make some beautiful jellies, preserves, and pickled goods.
Some days it's worth getting up just for the surprises that might happen.
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