This weekend Anna made a pot of magic soup. This has happened to us at least once before -where a pot of food will somehow feed a multitude, despite looking like a modest amount of food.
The first time this happened was when we were living in Italy and a group of honest-to-goodness pilgrims wandered into the village (there is a pilgrimage trail in the mountains nearby) There were three of them and they were hungry and tired and a little bit lost. Anna happened to be working in the garden at the time and she offered to give them a little something to eat. What started as an offer of snacks sort of blossomed into a full dinner as other friends and neighbors wandered to the table. There were songs and food and wine and stories and everyone ate well from a pot of pasta that Anna had sworn was only supposed to be enough for our little family. We called it the miracle of the pasta.
This weekend’s magic soup was perhaps not quite so dramatic, but nevertheless we were visited by lots of friends over the chilly rainy weekend and the soup pot was somehow never exhausted.
