light snow, blustery, temps minus 5
Michael and I are pretending to be snowed in.
We're sitting by the fire, drinking cafe au lait from the Vive Gamache mugs and eating the best treats ever. Our great friend Susan came out years ago to stay and Michael happened to mention that one treat he misses from his days at Cambridge are Eccles cakes. It's hard to find them in the UK, and nigh-on impossible in Canada.
Next time Susan came she brought....Eccles cakes. Michael almost wept. It tasted of giddy youth. of days when a young man from Montreal found himself punting on the Cam. In the company of boys as bright or brighter than himself. Of his first real girlfriend. of climbing the wall and sneaking back into his rooms at Christ's College. Of meeting young men he'd grow old with, and bury. John and Fred. And Dick, who thrives still in his new home near Oxford.
Eccles cakes. And the kindness of our friend Susan. We never forgot opening that tin and looking at them. Not a cake at all. So much more. Made by her from a recipe she'd searched for.
And now, on special occasions, Susan brings Eccles cakes. She gave us an entire tin for Christmas and we've been parsing them out...we 'forgot' to mention them to family over the holidays.
So now we pretend the snow is mighty and brutal - and sit by the fire eating Michael's youth. And thinking of friendship. And kindness.