Category Archives: culinaire

Jul28

What The Heart Knows As The Summer Blooms

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What The Heart Knows As The Summer Blooms

Summer can bring a frenzy of activity like the hummingbirds with their multiple flights to the sugar-water feeders. Dean is filling those feeders with his homemade recipe every 7 – 8 days. The finches and sparrows are the same with the suet blocks we put out. Fattening up, those birds of song. Summer blooms and songs all around. I read about blackberries, bees, and honey. I sit, observing from our cottage’s windows, taking it all in this week while recovering from COVID. This morning, I am feeling well enough to walk outside in the midst of the sights and sounds. Sunday’s sermon will be given courtesy of Mother’s Nature. The biscuit & gravy chef made a plate for me this morning. My last day of quarantine will be a beautiful one. How blessed I am.

While the rains water and the sun warm the earth, this is what the heart knows as the summer blooms: it is good to sit awhile to reflect and pray. I pray for my children and grandchildren. My disabled daughter who lost their house in a fire 1-1/2 years ago is living in a huge travel trailer on her husband’s family farm. Not quite the 3-bedroom house they were accustomed to. A final insurance settlement is almost completed. “Please God not another day of delay for them and give them wisdom on the best ways to spend these provisions.” My other daughter who fought and beat breast cancer in her early 30’s still struggles with brain fog after treatments. “Please God, clear her thoughts to see the next steps to take and the fortitude to walk those steps.” My son, who struggles with mental health challenges, like so many of us do. “Please God bring clarity and assurance of Your love for him. and each of us”

Take a walk in your neighborhood gardens and snap some green beans with your grandma today. I guarantee you will feel better.

Sweet Berry Kisses

Off to the blueberry bushes and blackberry brambles I am sent,

into the strawberry patch squishing overripe berries between my toes.

A painter’s palette smeared like rouge onto my cheeks

and all phalanges match my berry-stained face, lips, and tongue.

These delicious delectables satisfy my tummy’s rumbles

while the morning’s sun seals the sweet berry kisses to my lips.

Picking berries, berries, and more berries is my morning chore,

so, most make their way into Auntie’s heavy handled shiny bucket.

Pies, crisps, cobblers, buckles, and biscuits smothered with berry jams,

these Auntie anticipations as she twiddles her thumbs awaiting.

Down the garden path Auntie comes with a rabbit behind and bees a buzzing,

to lend a hand at picking plump berries into her long-handled metal pan.

Before noon into her kitchen baking oozing, finger-licking berry hand pies;

Oh, these juicy jewels create the sweetest berry kisses to my lips.

Anna Gall

May 4, 2024

May31

Weather Be Nice!

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Weather Be Nice!

Memorial Day weekend golf ball-size hail dropped from the dark thunder clouds above causing some major damage. We were on the other side of the state emptying Dean’s parent’s house getting it ready to be put on the market. Kansas City had some strong winds and damage, too. At home green leaves were knocked down by the hail and they were scattered all over the lawn and rooftops. It looked like autumn except the leaves were green instead of red, orange, and yellow. Our elephant ear plant looks like a palm tree now with its split leaves. My potted annuals lost a lot of blooms and leaves. One of our kitchen windows has a crack in it. One of the bird feeder domes was fractured and had a big hole in it. I am sure a few critters were knocked unconscious if not killed from those ice balls. That kind of hail could kill a person if hit in the head hard enough. Fortunately, we put our vehicle under the carport. But many auto dealer lots are having hail damage sales with their inventory. More weather is coming tonight and hope that it is not severe. Ready to take shelter. Weather, be nice to our plant life and critters, please!

“All I really need is a song in my heart, food in my belly, and love in my family.” ~ Raffi

Summertime pleasures such as a cup of cherry tea, a bowl of delectable dark cherries, Peter Rabbit brick garden art, an ice cream cone, and a new friend to get to know are wonderful distractions from the storms and the dumpster full of 50-years’ worth of papers, rusty tools, and broken furniture pieces. It took several weekends before this Memorial Day weekend as well as 10 adults working for the 3-day weekend to empty most of the home’s contents. I promise my children and grandchildren I will not leave this much “stuff” behind when I leave this world. Repurpose, throw away, and/or giveaway the excess now. The family gathering did give us an opportunity to look at old photos and reminisce. This summer I hope to finish my memoir, a collection of poems, short stories, and recipes that tell my life’s story. I cannot believe I have almost 100 recipes, most my own culinary creations that have been favorites amongst my family, friends, and students over the years.

What will you leave behind? What do you want to be remembered for?

May2

The Herbs, Flowers, and Birds Amongst Us

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The Herbs, Flowers, and Birds Amongst Us

This past weekend Dean and I brought out our perennials from their winter shelter and into the wilds of Missouri springtime. The air has been warm, but the wind brutal these past few days. The young sprouts on our 6-year-old lantana plant were wind whipped, so I trimmed that back hoping it comes to bloom beautifully like it does each year. My herbs from last year did not make it through the winter in their basement home. Therefore, we made a trip to purchase fresh herb plants from the neighborhood greenhouse. Tai and Genovese basils, lemon thyme, broad leaf and pineapple sages, oregano, chives, and mojito mint now grace the porch pots this growing season.

“If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.” ~ Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

The pineapple sage has a vivid red bloom, is a salvia family member. The flowers attract hummingbirds, butterflies, and bees. More will be purchased to add to the huge backyard planter with the Mexican sage plant. I trust last year’s Mexican sage plant wintered okay. I love being good to the earth and attracting the pollinators. The pineapple sage leaves can be eaten in salads, chopped and added to make flavorful bread, and muddled into a delightful summertime tea sweetened with golden honey. Cannot wait.

“Flowers always make people better, happier, and more helpful; they are sunshine, food and medicine to the mind.” ~ Luther Burbank

Yesterday I saw our first hummingbird on our dogwood bush. We have two sugar water-filled feeders hanging now to keep these tiny, feathered wonders well fed. They entertain us, so let the territorial dances begin. The three backyard birdhouses are homes to wrens and Eurasian tree sparrows. Nesting twigs and leaves peek out of the entry holes like the little birdies will soon. Eggs have been laid and one fledging has been spotted already. Our backyard flowers are growing wildly in the sunlight and rains. Several varieties of irises, peonies, columbines, and tiny wildflowers add color to the gardens. Today’s blooms are tomorrow’s teas, tinctures, vignettes, filled vessels, and creative arts n’ crafts of natural beauty. The herbs, flowers, and birds amongst us have my full attention.

“Flowers don’t tell, they show.” ~ Stephanie Skeem

Apr21

April’s Anointing

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April’s Anointing

April’s showers have brought a sparkle to the earth, at least in my neck of the woods. Spring cleaning begins with Mother nature’s cleansing the debris off the trees, fauna, and outbuildings with showers and storms these past few weeks. The rain soakings have brightened the redbud and dogwood trees blossoms in beautiful contrast to the fresh green leaves and various shades of green fields. Tulips and grape hyacinths are just about finished blooming and the buds on the peonies will be opening probably before May. In the Missouri countryside the farm ponds and creek beds are full. A weekend spent in northern Arkansas revealed similar countryside vignettes. Wild violets and buttercups dotted the roadsides with flowering almond bushes and irises flourishing near the farmhouses.

Our cottage home has come by some spring cleaning and sprucing up, too. We added a furniture piece to our living room. My mother’s china hutch came out of storage in our rental house’s garage, wiped down sparkling clean the glass panes and mirrors. With careful selection of items from Dean’s parents’ home, we uncovered boxes of his grandmother’s china and brought those home after our last trip there. We cleaned these circa 1930 pieces and placed in the hutch as well as my grandmother’s china and my mother’s Blue Willow collection. The glistening glass antiques have given an extra touch of warmth and nostalgia in our small abode.

A jot down to Arkansas Ozarks last weekend brought Dean and I to Eureka Springs. I facilitated a culinary and writing workshop at the Writers’ Colony at Dairy Hollow on Saturday afternoon. The Culinary Suite is housed in another cute cottage. I felt right at home making preparations for the culinary lesson on lemon and herbs in the suite’s pristine kitchen space. Five lovely local ladies from town came for the workshop. We all enjoyed making and indulging in lemon herb tea bread in the kitchen then moved onto the front porch to write block-out poems. Porch chatter and lots of laughs to share with the ladies on that sunny spring afternoon after the rains. Life surely is sweet. God’s blessings besmeared on us. April’s anointing.

Green Spaces

I long for green spaces … growth.

Water overflowing into vessels

Streams wash the earth … renew. 

Springtime green comes to stay,

Spring rains shower, drip, drip.

Puddles of water to run through

Soaking each toe … anointing.

I long for green spaces … growth.

Anna Marie Gall ~ March 14, 2018

Feb17

A Reading, Writing, And Tea Affair

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A Reading, Writing, And Tea Affair

Reading, writing, and tea. This love triangle only intensifies with the snowstorms. This latest winter storm included thundersnow, so the St. Louis area had 3 – 6 inches of the frozen precipitation depending on how much thunder a person heard. St. Charles had about 5 inches. Very cold air came with this snow, so indoor activities only for me this weekend. Housecleaning is not on the agenda. Reading, writing, tea, and then daydreaming about the upcoming gardening season is. The seeds catalogs and DIY articles are perused. My mind imagines and creates.

“Life is unpredictable, it changes with the seasons, even your coldest winter happens for the best of reasons, and though it feels eternal, like all you’ll ever do is freeze, I promise spring is coming, and with it, brand new leaves.” ~ Erin Hanson

Deanna Greens and Garden Art’s story is still unfolding. Our lives are busy with jobs and our growing family with nine grandkids. Dean and I no longer grow under the 1200-square foot greenhouse and screenhouse. Although, we very much enjoy growing herbs, perennials, and blooms. We have our perennials at our cottage home in town. Our cinder-block basement houses the green life during the winter. We have an oil heater and a grow light that keeps the plants content for the five- or six-months cold season. Outdoors, our jonquils sprouted through the mulch and brown leaves this past week. Their yellow heads are wanting to burst open. As the yellow blooms unfold, we know Spring is around the corner. With Spring comes the yard projects. A backyard shed is one of those projects this year. This gardener’s daydreams are a tiny stained-glass greenhouse as well as a potting table. See where those dreams go.

“It’s nice to dream even when you’ve had pains and disappointments.” ~ Antonia Bread 

Jan13

Winter Retreat

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Winter Retreat

Yesterday an arctic blast came through Missouri leaving a blanket of snow, ice, and high winds with ungodly temperatures. It appears most of the Midwest and eastern states are experiencing the winter storm. More wintry stuff to come. My severe allergy to the cold is a challenge, but I make the most of the time indoors on these kinds of days. What is the best thing about hibernating? Staying in the warmth of home, snuggling with my sweetie, sipping on hot tea, and eating comfort foods. Warm creamy oatmeal with apples and craisins for breakfast. Then Missouri made apple-cheddar cheese, crackers, red grapes, and small glass of an Italian Moscato for lunch. Homemade Italian Stone Soup and garlic bread is on the dinner menu. 

Outside our icy windows the finches and sparrows are having their feeding frenzies at the feeders. Suets blocks were put out ahead of the storm anticipating our feathered friends would need the extra energy to stay warm. The heater in the bird bath is working as there is some flowing water even in the single-digit wind chills today. Plenty of perches and bushes for the birds. No movie or concert beats the entertainment of the outdoor aviary dining room. 

But of course, reading and writing is a delight during these winter retreats. English poet, Edith Sitwell captured winter in these words, “Winter is a time for comfort, good food and warmth … it is the time for home.” I am having a winter reprieve from the busyness of everyday life at Deanna’s Cottage, home to Dean and me. I may get some household chores like laundry and cleaning finished this weekend. A big maybe. What are you occupied with this wintry day? I hope you are snug warm or least will get there after a good sled ride down the neighborhood snowy hill.

Dec26

Grace To Begin Again

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Grace To Begin Again

“Somehow there’s always grace to begin again.” ~ Ann Voskamp. 

This year 2023 has been a rough one. We left 2022 praying for miracles and depending on God’s gift of grace unending.  If you may remember, my oldest daughter, Rachel and her family lost their home in a fire Christmas night of 2022.  Many compassionate people rallied to provide and support them in their plight. The insurance company has been very slow, and partial settlement funds have come.  They have made home with a trailer situated on my son-in-law’s parent’s St. Francois County ranch, living a minimalist lifestyle.  The lot the burned house was on still needs to be sold. The family battles flashbacks and sleep deprivation since the fire.  Please continue in prayers for Rachel, Mick, Hannah, Ella, and Eli. “The mind is a wonderful servant but a terrible master,” author Robin Sharma tells us. Other family news … Granddaughter, Hannah moved into her first apartment. My son, Ben moved to Springfield, MO this spring, and seems to enjoy being there.  My Elisabeth and husband, Mark have taken quite a liking for insects, and have a few terrariums housing their new pets.  Libby and Brendan are occupied with work and school. Dean’s youngest son, Rainer and wife, Erica had another son, Jeremiah on March 3 who joins 3-year-old Jefferson.  It is a joy having them just 25 minutes away.  Dean’s oldest son, AJ and family, Nancy, Elise, and CJ keep busy with work and school.  Little CJ started preschool this year.  Dean’s daughter, Liz and husband, Vince keep up with work and are wonderful helpmates for their families. Most work projects at our St. Charles cottage had been curtailed with our families’ immediate needs in 2023.  I managed to keep alive some potted herbs, and successfully grew Mexican sage and eucalyptus this year. Back at it in 2024 for our cottage, our rental house, and Dean’s parents’ house.

Dean’s mother passed away in October.  She had been battling ill health and leukemia for at least a year.  We typically visit the Kansas City family every 4 – 6 weeks.  But between September and November, we went back and forth to the KC side of the state nine out of ten weekends with her end-of-life details, funeral, and caring for Dean’s father. Dean’s father agreed to a premier assisted living apartment in STL, which has made it much easier for his sons to visit regularly.  Besides coffee & tea stops in obscure towns and villages while going back and forth to Farmington and Lee’s Summit this year, weekend getaways by ourselves or with family or friends included Rolla, Charleston, and Branson, MO; Eureka Springs, Arkansas; Tennessee for the Clarksville Writer’s Conference in June; a day in Glasgow, MO; another day in Lincoln Land, IL; a week away to the beautiful North Carolina Appalachians and Nashville, TN; a flight and an overnight in Texas for Dean’s aunt’s funeral in October; and a holiday weekend in the Wisconsin Dells.

Dean still loves serving the researchers who come into the National Archives military record center.  He has been with this government agency for over 15 years. Dean talks about “retirement” in 4-1/2 years, but I cannot see him stopping the beloved “hunt” with the research he loves doing.  Good chance a small research gig will be in Dean’s future after retirement.  Author Gretchen Rubin writes, “That’s my ideal life.  Doing work worth doing.”  I found regular weekday part-time employment worth doing.  Since May I have been working as a culinary professional for a non-profit organization that serves the senior and disabled communities with meals-on-wheels and services. The earlier full-time job was too much for me between the lack of adequate training at the credit union and running on fumes from weekend trips back and forth to Farmington to assist my daughter after the fire.  Early autumn, the community college built a new space for culinary classes.  I was asked to consult on necessary equipment and space design for the “Studio Kitchen”, and this new space is where I facilitated two cookie baking classes this holiday season.

“Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work,” Thomas Edison is quoted. I continue to take opportunities to submit my poetry, short stories, and recipes to various online publications. Some of my writings are selected and published, plenty others denied.  I participated in my first poetry reading in Eureka Springs, Arkansas early in 2023, and attended two other readings.  In 2024 I will present a WCDH fundraiser workshop “The Essence of Lemon, Herbs, and Writing” on a date TBD.  I facilitated this same workshop at a local lavender farm this past summer and loved the interaction of the participants. I joined a writers’ circle with some folks I met at the Clarksville conference.  Every chance I have to be a part of the writing community, I take it. Huge strides have been made in a culinary themed book I am writing.  “There is something delicious about writing the first words of a story. You never quite know where they’ll take you,” author Beatrix Potter said. More recipes, poems, and short stories keep being added.  A labor of love. I didn’t know this introvert had that much to share with the world.  Somedays I prefer solitude rather than talk to people.  If I am quiet long enough, I can hear.  “Sound is ephemeral…Sound is generative…Listening opens us to the wonders of communication and creativity,” shared keynote speaker David George Haskell at the Clarksville writers’ conference. I work things out with words in the quiet, writing them down and reading others’ words.  Other days I need to have that meaningful conversation with a friend, family member, co-worker, or senior client. “Writers and artists work in the loneliest of all professions, inside our heads”, eMerge co-editor Charles Templeton wrote in a newsletter.

Fluffy pillows and comforters layered on a settee, piled reading books on the floor besides, and a cup of hot cocoa lathered with whipping cream atop … this is what I look forward to this winter which is predicted to be long and cold, the snow shovel kind according to the persimmon seeds.  I will watch the snow and songbirds through the frosty windows while snug warm under blankets, listening to the quiet hush, occasional chirps, and let the words flow on paper.  “Live from the abundant place that you are loved, and you won’t find yourself begging others for scraps of love,” Christian author, Lysa TerKeurst encourages us. Ann Voskamp reminds us, “Whatever rock and tender place the bruised soul finds itself between, it’s witness there right into the face of the rock we’re facing.  There is no such thing as salvation by romance, or by achievement, or by dream life, or by any good behavior, or by itself or anyone else … No choice you or anyone else makes has the power to make you unchosen … What you want most deeply is to be deeply wanted as a person, valued and needed, seen and safe and known.”  Simply, God the Father chose you, salvation is through the gift of Jesus alone, and nothing can separate you from the love of God.  The Holy Spirit lives in you and me.  I pray you know these truths, live them, and share them.

“Nothing can ever separate us from God’s love.” ~ Romans 8:38


Oct22

The Countryside and Sycamores

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The Countryside and Sycamores

On Saturday I left home mid-morning to travel about an hour north to Pike County. I had the inkling to enjoy autumn’s superb weather when I heard the weekend forecast. I could have perused the boutiques on historic Main Street or shopped until I dropped. But I wanted to be outdoors. Dean’s mother passed away on October 6 with her burial in St. Joseph, MO last weekend. At last week’s funeral, I reminded myself that it was time for a visit to my parents’ gravesite just outside of Bowling Green, MO. Both my parents and grandfather died during the month of October as well; 11 years, 9 years, and 3 years ago.

The countryside was beautiful, yet I felt a sadness for this occasion. The colors of the leaves and harvesting fields distracted me from my somber mood, but my purpose for this autumn drive was not missed. I took the scenic route following along the Mississippi River. I forgot about all those little towns with speed limits at 30mph. It was enough for me to slow down and refocus for the next leg until the next village. The river that author, Mark Twain wrote about is so wide in many places in Lincoln and Pike Counties. Between the trees I could see it sparkle like diamonds in the sunlight. Although, the many stand-alone sycamore trees caught my attention the most. Even the hillside cemetery had a sycamore.

I said a prayer, asked for forgiveness for some unkind words I recalled I said to my parents many years ago. Some memories were from childhood and others as an adult. Likewise, as memories flood my mind of unkind words my father and mother said to me, I forgive each of them. Those memories help explain my own behaviors as a person. No reason to repeat history with negative words. Simply, be kind to others.

On way back home, I stopped in Clarksville, MO to use the restroom and stretch my legs. I had hoped to grab a sandwich. Not many eateries to choose from, but a clean restroom was a must. A riverside bar & grill had patrons there. A dozen Harleys were parked outside along the curb. I am not a biker, but hoped they welcomed all. The restroom was clean, and the patrons enjoying their food and drink. I love a good grilled sandwich, so I stayed. While eating a delicious chicken club sandwich at the Clarksville, MO bar & grill, words flooded my thoughts, so I wrote them down. Here is the poem:

Sycamores

Scattered hills breathe sadness.

Sadness as they overlook the valleys.

Valleys of withering grasses and emptiness.

Emptiness except for the stand-alone, century old sycamores.

Sycamores with peeling, white-painted bark.

Bark that seems to come apart at the seams.

Seams covered with crimson red sumac vine.

Vines that kept those years together.

Together during the bitter and sweet seasons.

Seasons are many that fill our lives.

Lives interwoven with faith, hope, love, disappointment, grief.

Grief over ill health, blank dreams, and abandoned promises.

Promises made with good intentions.

Intentions distracted with stressors and others’ disregard.

Disregards are many by hurting or hurtful people.

People everywhere breathe sadness.

Sadness dissipates as they look up to the Heavens.

Heaven’s Divine nature made a canopy of colorful leaves.

Leaves are many of those stand-alone, century old sycamores.

Sycamores that still stand alone near the scattered hills.

Sep23

An Almanac Autumn’s Arrival

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An Almanac Autumn’s Arrival

Autumn comes in with a cool morning and the promise of warmth by noon with the full sun. A London Fog tea latte is calling my name. The leaves are turning golden with oranges and amber peeking through already. I am reminded of the abundance of autumn with berries plump, zucchini and yellow squash almost the size of a toddler’s leg, and the many varieties of tomatoes overflow the gardens and baskets. I read this poem many years ago and always enjoy reading it again every September …

Blackberry Eating by Galway Kinnell
I love to go out in late September
among the fat, overripe, icy, black blackberries
to eat blackberries for breakfast,
the stalks very prickly, a penalty
they earn for knowing the black art
of blackberry-making; and as I stand among them
lifting the stalks to my mouth, the ripest berries
fall almost unbidden to my tongue,
as words sometimes do, certain peculiar words
like strengths or squinched,
many-lettered, one-syllabled lumps,
which I squeeze, squinch open, and splurge well
in the silent, startled, icy, black language
of blackberry — eating in late September.

The other fruit to take notice of this autumn is the persimmon. The Old Farmer’s Almanac isn’t predicting a terribly cold autumn for the Midwest, but what about winter? The persimmon seeds are supposed to tell us what kind of winter we are to have. Look for the persimmons to be ripe soon in your area, if not already. Missouri is to have a spoon winter. According to this article with the Old Farmer’s Almanac here is how to predict weather with a persimmon seed:

1. Find a locally-grown persimmon. (A locally-grown persimmon is necessary because it will reflect local conditions!) Wait to pick the fruit or cut into the fruit until after it gets a bit soft—almost mushy.

2. Open the fruit and cut open a persimmon seed. 

3. Look at the shape of the kernel inside:

  • If the kernel is spoon-shaped, expect plenty of snow to shovel.
  • If it is fork-shaped, plan on a mild winter with powdery, light snow.
  • If the kernel is knife-shaped, expect frigid winds that will “cut” like a blade.

I hope you enjoy your autumn and all it entails in your part of the world. It will prepare us for the next season, the winter whatever that may bring. There is a season for everything …

“There is a season (a time appointed) for everything and a time for every delight and event or purpose under heaven—” ~ Ecclesiastes 3:1

Aug20

Nostalgia

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Nostalgia

“Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind. Memories, sweetened through the ages just like wine…” Elvis Presley

The week started with watching the recorded Grand Ole Opry’s show with Vince Gill’s rendition of Ray Price’s “Danny Boy”. Now I love Vince Gill. And his version of this timeless classic was so sweet. But thoughts about the one-and-only singer, Ray Price continued throughout the week. On Friday while celebrating August birthdays at the senior center, the guest singer shared Ray Price’s song “For The Good Times”. Funny how a song can bring you back 50 or 60 years ago. I was brought back to the mid-1960’s watching my parents’ tender moment while they listened to Ray Price’s album playing on the turntable. I believe it was their favorite song.

As this memory lane week went Dean and I had planned to remove the dead refrigerator from our rental house’s garage. While loading the old frig Dean found in its insulation my Girl Scout membership card from 1968. This refrigerator was bought in the 1960’s by my parents. It was their primary refrigeration for a few years in my first childhood home and became the secondary cooler for soda and beer when we moved to the cedar ranch house built by my father on the tree farm. After my parents retired, the refrigerator followed them to their Pike County house, again stocking beverages in the basement. After Dad passed away, my mother moved into a villa in St. Peters. The 50+ year-old refrigerator needed a new home. It lived its last years in the garage of my St. Peters home once again as a beverage cooler. That Girl Scout card was another reminder of my childhood. Seems so long ago. It is long ago, but the memories so clear like it was yesterday.

The nostalgic week ends in the St. Peters house going through boxes of old papers. Some set aside for burning, others thrown away in the trash bin, and others boxed again. I stumbled upon several poems I wrote in the 1990’s. One poem melted my heart. It was about the teddy bear gifted to my oldest daughter, Rachel. As an expectant mother I had unwrapped it at the shower. The brown little fella sat in the baby nursery, came to the childbirth classes, and witnessed Rachel’s birth. The poem continued to talk about my other two babies. Those young motherly feelings were felt so vividly once again. What a beautiful week of nostalgia, sweet memories relived in my heart.