My mom visited unexpectedly last week when I came across her recipe for spice cake in an old box of photos. Although she left us almost twenty-five years ago, she manages to pop in every so often. And there she was in that box long buried in the back of the space under the stairs. A lovely surprise. Our way too hot weather cooperated by cooling down enough for me to turn on the oven this morning. I’m not the three-year old picutured on the recipe card anymore, but this morning’s cake tasted just as good as it did then. I’m sure.