My Great Gran had a lot of lace. Table cloths and doilies and couch covers and coasters. Here’s part of her collection. They remind me of snowflakes, each one unique and precise.

Whenever I think of lace, I think of noodles. I read in a novel that lace makers were forced subsist on a diet of noodles and the few other foods that wouldn’t imprint their scent on their product.