The clothes dried by the fire and a cooking marathon began. The delicious smells from the kitchen changed throughout the day from stewed apple for an apple crumble, to onion sauteing for the potato soup, to italian meatballs being browned in the pan, and then to a New York cheese cake baking in the oven. In between were all the discussions, taste testing and bowl licking to do.
I hemmed the new curtains to go over the window and glass front door. So the sound of the sewing machine and me groaning as I climbed up and down from chairs was added to the sound of the powerful wind howling around the house and punishing the trees outside. As I write this I can hear the sound of a chain saw as some workers remove a downed gum tree off the main road nearby.
In the background this afternoon we had the AFL on the radio. The excited sound of the commentators in what proved to be an close game between Fremantle and the Sydney Swans combined with the cooking, took me immediately back to Mum's kitchen when I was little. Mum and my sisters, and me when I was old enough, would have a cooking frenzy most Saturdays...I can smell a big pot of soup on the stove and a cake baking, hear the mixmaster whizzing, the chatter of my sisters and the footy on the radio. It is such a powerful memory I can almost feel the sun shining through the window onto the kitchen table while I wait in anticipation to lick the beaters.