A few days ago mom came over for dinner. We cooked some clams and she brought some food from their garden, including some Japanese plums, you know, those plump, yellow, juicy globes that explode in your mouth with the full taste of summer.
Today Isabel and I bought some fresh flowers. The house has been uninhabited for a few years and there are unpleasant odours still hiding in odd corners, so we wanted something fresh but subtly pungent. Isabel chose some lilies.
We returned home at dusk. Isabel walked into the kitchen carrying the bunch of lilies in the bend of her arm and I followed her. As I walked past the fruit bowl, I idly grabbed a plum and brought it to my mouth. In that precise instant, Isabel faced me, and her rotating movement sent a waft of lily scent straight into my face as I bit into the fruit. I guess Isabel saw something in my face, because she asked “what?”.
The case is, that plum tasted like lilies.