(Continued from May 18, 2010)
Both the soup and the rest of our lunch were exceptionally flavorful. The use of salt had been minimized and a great variety of herbs had been added. It was the kind of cooking that I had learned to love during my stay in France. Thanks to some good friends, I had quickly discovered restaurants where salt was sparingly used.
I told Thea about the wonderful tastiness of the food that we had just consumed. “Your cook knows a lot about the use of herbs,” I said. “She has probably done a great deal of experimenting to determine which ones go together and the quantity of each herb that one should use. Therefore, in my opinion, don’t change anything; don’t try to improve on perfection.”
We decided that we would have some ice cream “in a little while,” after doing a search for the inscription on the beam. We procured a stepladder and the flashlight from the Audi and set to inspecting the massive timber.
To the left of the entrance door was a column that supported one end of the beam. We chose to commence our search in that area. Thea focused the shaft of light on the timber while I ascended the stepladder. There was nothing on one side and the numbers on the other side were measurements. So, we went to the far end of the beam.
When Thea shone the ray of light on the wood, even before I had ascended the ladder, I could see numbers and words. I rose to within forty centimeters and read the inscription to Thea: “From Ed Brown’s mill, March 1934.”
Satisfied about our accomplished mission, we were in a mood to enjoy our ice cream. That day, the machine contained strawberry and vanilla, which allowed us to decide on a bi-flavored swirl.
At the big window, while we enjoyed our dessert, I told Thea about my curiosity regarding the width of the lengthy orchard. “As soon as we have finished our sweet treat, we will take a walk along its front. On a day when it is not raining, we will go and have a look at the great variety of fruit trees, which, I was told, are prospering because of the hilly terrain. Apparently, they like well-drained soil.”
We paced the frontage of the orchard under an enormous umbrella. There was no wind; so, the heavy drizzle came straight down on our slightly tilted canopy. The drip behind us fell well wide of our summer sneakers.
“The width of the orchard is about one hundred twenty meters,” I said to my daughter as we walked toward the shelter of the greenhouse. “I would guess that more than half of the fruit trees in the entire county are on your farm.”
(To be continued)