When we were little girls, growing up on Kinter Hill Road in Edinboro, Pa., picking flowers in the summer was an everyday activity. Indian paintbrush, dandelions, cornflowers or violets, even wild strawberry blossoms–if they had petals or any color to speak of, we picked them and brought them in the house for Mom.
And, although I wouldn’t want to speak for my sisters’ work, I am all but certain that the flowers I presented to Mom did not arrive in good condition. (Heck, I couldn’t hold a church bulletin past the first verse of the opening hymn without having curled, crumpled and creased it into a thing much better suited for spit wad ammunition than for worshipful behaviors.)
Even so, on those summer afternoons when I came running into the house with my squished-up handful of wilted wildflowers, I remember Mom stopping whatever she was doing to look for a pretty juice glass that would serve as a vase for the day’s bouquet. It did not occur to me that she was honoring my interest in being helpful, or in finding pretty things for the kitchen or, what was most likely, just wanting to give her a present because I loved her.
At the time, I just assumed that she thought, as I did, that all flowers were beautiful. I still think they are beautiful.
The truth is, I think the same about cookies. A plate of cookies appeals to me for many reasons, but one of them is because a plate of cookies is a simple, everyday way to give loved-ones something lovely. Like a juice glass filled with dandelions.
Of all of the everyday cookies that I make, the ones that look the prettiest to me are Grandma Bennett’s Peanut Butter Blossoms. Today’s blooms may arrive in varying conditions, but you’ll find a plate of them in the Administration Building, in the College Bookstore and in my office on the second floor of the Drengaelen House.
Come and get ’em!