And there was no better testament to the wisdom of her words than a 90 year-old Helen, bouncing around the yard like an irrepressible teenager, bringing in wood, tending the garden. To be sure, Helen is at her most curmudgeonly in this volume, but she is also honest about her occasional falls from grace. I can personally attest to her weakness for ice cream, having watched her, during an evening of reading poems together, march unabashedly through every half-full pint in my freezer. It is also clear from reading Simple Food that Helen and Scott took a sensuous delight in the fruits of their gardens and fields and shared them generously with others. It is a frequent occurrence at our farm, and at such moments Helen's culinary philosophy always stands me in good stead.
Friends suddenly appear.
I wash the soil off my hands, goose up the fire in the woodstove, and start to scrabble something together for dinner, asking myself if I have time to make an apple pie for dessert.