My Grandmother's Gifts

It's been a bit rough past few weeks. My grandma Veronica, my mom's mom, the woman who practically raised me and my brother, my best buddy and mentor in the kitchen,  teacher of all awesome life lessons, nurturer with an amazingly big heart, passed away on October 26th, due to complications arising from the West Nile Virus.  One day we were baking together in the kitchen, and the next (literally) she fell acutely ill and was admitted to the hospital. Shortly thereafter, her condition started to deteriorate to the point where prognosis was dismal and impossibly poor.  It was at once incredibly difficult to witness, while at the same time, proved to be a spiritually powerful experience.  She left so much for me to contemplate. And so suddenly.   Immediately, EVERY thing she had touched or owned was connected to her memory, from kitchen items like Armenian coffee cups, to the entire layout of the kitchen itself, to her favorite flowers in the backyard, to the coffee shops along the boulevards in the San Fernando valley of Southern California, where people knew her name and face.   Every single aspect of my life, I found,  vividly evoked the memory of her smile, her commentaries, her humility, her modesty, her beautiful wisdom.

Though all of these memory connections came to me at an overwhelming rate, I found one thing through my grieving that brought me peace: A new appreciation for the natural world around me. You see, beyond her love for food and cooking, and dressing elegantly, I always knew about Veronica's deeper essence, that which reveled in the sights, sounds, touch, and fragrance of natural objects that surround us.   For example, I never listened intently to the birds' songs she would hear in the morning while enjoying her Armenian coffee, turning to me to say, "How beautiful!".  But then, after her passing, I found that I heard these birds at a higher frequency,  songs that spoke to me. Then, it was the flowers, I saw shape and color in a new light, and the way the stamen pointed for bees to pollinate. Her sense of wonder was childlike, mesmerized by the sheer beauty of sights we might take for granted.   And thus, these sights and sounds are being transmitted to me, I believe, through her memory, her spirit.

So, while my garden regains a new look, in the autumn of our lives,  and as I plan to lay down some winter seeds in the coming weeks, I will share some items that I find are simply delectable, vibrant, and sensual.

For example, this weekend, at a local Whole Foods, I stumbled upon this gorgeous anomaly called,  "Buddha's Fingers" lemon.   Who knew!   Its fragrance as strong and sweet as a Meyer's or Sorrento lemon, the Buddha's Fingers(or more commonly Buddha's hand), is thought to originate from India or China, but grown in Southern California.   At $7.99/lb, it is clearly a very special item(this one weighed about 4 lbs),  I thought I'll reserve the purchase for another occasion when I can find a very worthy dessert or lemon-based dish  :)   But check it out,   freaky,   fruity,   fantastical!




Oh, and I found these intensely purple, paper-like blossoms at the Getty Center garden. Had to share. I love how they radiate their vibrant hue, almost like a purple sun :)