Whipped Cream in Fiction

The other day I brought this book to read on the bus to Buncrana.

I do not even remember where I picked this up, but I have had it for years. I probably found it in a thrift store somewhere. I pick it up now and then and read a story or two. It is small, so it was good for the bus.

My bookmark was stuck at the beginning of The Garden Party by Katherine Mansfield. As the title suggests, the backdrop is the preparations for and the aftermath of a party in the home of a well-off family. I chuckled at the following when the cream puffs were delivered:

'' 'Have one each, my dears,' said cook in her comfortable voice. 'Yer ma won't know.'
Oh, impossible. Fancy cream puffs so soon after breakfast. The very idea made one shudder. All the same, two minutes later Jose and Laura were licking their fingers with that absorbed inward look that only comes from whipped cream.''

That absorbed inward look--I have probably had just that look on my face many times, fancying whipped cream as I do :-)

We were on foot today and passed a fireweed patch this morning. We used to have this near our house in Fairbanks. It starts blooming at the bottom and as summer progresses, it blooms closer and closer to the top. Once it is all bloomed out, the white fluff appears as it goes to seed. I have a soft spot in my heart for fireweed. There was some in Brunswick, some in Ballinrobe by the river, some in Killybegs along the road, and some here along the shore walk and elsewhere. I was happy to see the blooms at the top today.

We were passing the fireweed patch because we happened to glance down towards the water as we were crossing a street and everything looked quite dark and dramatic, so we went down to have a look.

It is a pleasant day here today. Plenty of clouds, a bit of a breeze, a little too warm and humid out there, but comfortable inside--and I do believe I hear rain :-)

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